Kid Plans
by aliasfluffyone
Summary: There comes a day when a Heyes plan doesn't work right, but Kid has contingency plans. Takes place during the early outlaw days. c Aug/Sep 1872
1. Plan B

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

Plan B

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"We need to get going," urged Kid in a quiet tone.

The tall blond man gestured to the end of the alley where Wheat, Preacher and the new guy, Jenkins, were waiting with the horses. Kyle picked up his pace and hurried out the bank door with only a small grumble.

"T'weren't no fun at all," muttered Kyle. The small man hoisted the satchel containing the unused dynamite over his shoulder. "Heyes got that combination right off."

"Quieter that way though," commented Lobo. He followed Kyle at a slower pace, carrying the crowbars and other heavy equipment that had also not been needed. "I like it when we don't have to blow things up."

Heyes sauntered leisurely out of the bank in time to see Lobo almost run into Kyle. The smaller man stopped smack dab in the middle of alley and turned to face his friend with a wounded expression.

"Blowing things up is fun," insisted Kyle. His voice rose higher as he argued, "This job was too quiet!"

"It ain't quiet if you two keep yapping," hissed Kid in annoyance. The handsome blond scowled and made a shooing motion with the shiny colt. "Get to the horses."

Heyes stopped walking and looked at Kid in surprise. In the darkened alley, it was hard to see the expression on his cousin's face. The dark haired outlaw leader hefted the carpet bag full of money and shook it. The satisfying sound of bundled wads of bills hitting the insides of the carpet bag could be heard. Heyes, with Kid backing him up, had taken over leadership of the Devil's Hole gang less than a year ago when Big Jim Santana had been captured and sent to prison. The first few months had been rough. But this job, like the last three, were meticulously planned.

"Why are you so proddy?" asked Heyes. "We'll be well out of here before the sheriff's next patrol."

"Just think we should be goin' is all," responded Kid. The blond gave Heyes a nudge. Together the outlaw leader and his partner followed Kyle and Lobo.

"This is another flawless plan," boasted Heyes. "And…"

Kid body slammed Heyes up against the wall of the bank.

"Ooomph," gasped Heyes as the air rushed out of his lungs. Dark brown eyes looked at the blue eyes mere inches away from him. "Now Kid, what did you go do that for?"

The sound of shots being fired drowned out Heyes' question. The slender criminal mastermind turned his head, trying to see past his partner. Wood splintered beside his face as bullets slammed into the wall of the building. Heyes felt the body covering him shudder. A line of red sprang up on the sleeve of Kid's coat.

"Kid! You hit?"

"Time to leave," growled the younger outlaw. The blond grabbed Heyes by the shoulders and shoved him further down the alley. "Move!"

Heyes ran towards the waiting horses. He nearly tripped jumping over the tools Lobo had dropped. Ahead of Heyes, Lobo and Kyle were now mounting their horses. Heyes looked over his shoulder. Kid was right behind him. In the waning moonlight, Heyes could barely see the figure at the other end of the alley. A youngish looking man was frantically trying to reload a pistol, shouting all the while.

"Sheriff! Sheriff!"

"Who's that?" demanded Heyes as he reached his horse. Foot in the stirrup, and then he was swinging himself up into the saddle.

"Don't know, don't care," responded Kid as he began to mount. "Just go!"

The sound of another pistol shot let them know that the man in the alley had finished reloading. Heyes twisted his head to look around the town. The man's shouts were waking the good folks of Simpsonville. Lantern lights were beginning to show up at windows throughout the town.

"Kid," asked Heyes anxiously looking at the blood on his cousin's sleeve, "are you okay?"

"Just a scratch. I can ride," answered Curry as he settled himself in the saddle. "Go!"

Another figure joined the man at the end of the alley as Heyes spurred his horse a few steps forward. Out of the corner of his eye, the observant gang leader saw moonlight reflect on a badge. The sheriff raised his rifle. The crack of the rifle shot was almost immediately followed by a squeal of pain as Kid's horse reared. Heyes watched as Kid struggled to stay on the horse and get the wounded, frightened creature under control.

"Kid," shouted Heyes.

The twenty-two year old gang leader started to turn his horse. If Kid's horse went down, Heyes determined he would double up with his cousin. It was only a short ride to where the gang's next change of horses were waiting. Wheat, Kyle, Lobo and Preacher circled around the outlaw leader and his partner. The outlaws fired well placed shots into the floorboards of the hotel porch, above the bank door, and into the water trough in front of the saloon. The shots were meant to discourage the citizenry from following the gang and buy time to get away, but the shots didn't seem to discourage the two men in the alley. The sheriff, and the younger man with him, continued to move towards the gang. Heyes could now see a small star like the sheriff's on the chest of the pistol wielding young man.

"Looks like Simpsonville finally got a new deputy," observed Wheat as he placed a shot into the porch railing near the approaching lawmen.

Kid got the big bay he was riding under control. A trickle of blood, similar to the one on Kid's arm, showed on the flank of the big animal. The frightened creature's wild eyes and rapidly blowing breath gave an indication of how hard Kid was working to keep the animal under control. The blond gunman pointed in the direction that Jenkins had disappeared. The road out of town led to the distant mountain range and a myriad of trails where they could find the safety of Devil's Hole.

"Ride!" ordered Kid.

Kyle, Lobo and Preacher moved forward to surround Heyes. Wheat lingered a moment near Kid. Heyes' sharp ears heard their quick exchange.

"Plan B?" asked Wheat in a low voice.

"Maybe," grunted Kid with a concerned look at his horse. "Too soon to tell."

Heyes had only a moment to wonder what plan the Kid and Wheat were talking about before his cousin shouted to the milling men.

"Go!"

The men spurred their horses forward. Heyes was forced into the lead, followed closely by Kyle, Lobo and Preacher as they reached the edge of town. He looked back over his shoulder. Wheat, trailed by Kid, followed behind them. Heyes saw the sheriff raise the rifle again. The sound of another shot echoed through the night. Kid jerked once, then leaned forward on his horse. Heyes tried to rein in, but couldn't surrounded as he was by Kyle, Lobo and Preacher. The Kansan could only watch as Wheat reined in and circled back to Kid. His partner struggled to sit up, said something and waved his hand forward before slumping again. Wheat turned and spurred his horse on, leaving Kid behind.

"No!" shouted Heyes.

The outlaw leader spurred his horse forward, trying to get out from where Lobo and Preacher had him penned in. Heyes almost got away from the gang, but Kyle's horse blocked him. Lobo and Preacher surrounded Heyes again as Wheat joined them.

"Get out of my way!" shouted Heyes. "I've got to get Kid."

"Plan B," announced Wheat grimly.

The other outlaws nodded as if they already figured that out. Heyes didn't even pause to wonder what Plan B might be. In the distance, Heyes watched as the sheriff, his deputy and other townspeople surrounded Kid and his horse. In the lantern light, Heyes saw Kid hauled off the wounded animal. Curry didn't stand. His knees buckled as his feet touched the ground. The two men holding him began to drag him towards the nearest building. Other men were running towards the livery stable. There would be a posse soon.

"Time to go," said Wheat.

"Boys, go on without me," ordered the outlaw leader.

"Can't," replied Wheat. "'gainst orders."

"What?" spluttered Heyes. "Who's orders? I'm in charge here!"

"Kid's in charge of security," reminded Wheat. "You said so yourself."

Heyes remembered. When he took over leadership of the gang, Heyes had said there were only three rules. First, no hurting any of the people they robbed. Second, follow Heyes' plans to the letter. Third, Kid was in charge of security, do what Curry said and we'll all be safe. But now Kid wasn't safe. Heyes struggled to turn his horse, but the other riders milling around him made it impossible. Against his wishes, Heyes found himself riding away from Simpsonville and Kid.

"Kid's been shot," argued Heyes. "He can't be in charge of security."

"A good plan accounts for the unexpected," recited Wheat.

Heyes rolled his dark brown eyes in exasperation at hearing his own words tossed back at him. The other outlaws pressed closer, surrounding Heyes, urging their mounts to an even faster pace on the long flat road leading west into the mountains.

"And Kid said if anything happens to him," continued Wheat, "we got to get you safe."

"None of my plans include anyone getting shot," yelled Heyes over the sound of galloping hooves.

"Kid's plan did," responded Kyle with a tone of awe. Kyle's hero worship for Kid Curry was well known. The smaller man twisted his head to look Heyes in the eyes. "Contingency plans Kid said."

Dark brown eyes clouded over as Heyes remembered explaining the definition of the word contingency to his cousin in Texas over a year ago.

-x-x-x-x-x-

_Upon his release from the Valparaiso Home for Wayward Boys, the older of the two Kansas cousins had found life outside challenging. Times were rough. Jobs and food were hard to find. The apprentice program the school had arranged for Heyes didn't work out. The newspaperman decided he didn't need an assistant. Out of desperation, Heyes left the area promising to return for his younger cousin. Heyes would never forgive himself for not being at the gate two years later to meet his cousin when the younger boy had been released from state custody._

"_I'm sorry Jed," apologized Hannibal Heyes as he faced his younger cousin after several years' separation. "I should have been there when you got out, like we originally planned." _

_Heyes had travelled north looking for work. Unable to find any, the young man joined the Plummer gang. After the gang's last heist, Jim Plummer disappeared with the take, leaving behind a lot of angry, hungry outlaws. The remnants of the Plummer gang each struck out on their own. After selling his horse and most of his gear, Heyes had barely enough money for a stage ticket south. _

"_The stage I was on was held up," explained Heyes, "and the folks on the stage thought I was part of the robbery attempt."_

_The robber, a former member of the Plummer gang, had greeted Heyes as a long lost brother. The arresting sheriff, and subsequent judge, didn't believe Heyes' protests that he hadn't been involved in the stage robbery. The dead robber couldn't corroborate Heyes' story and the other passengers wouldn't. Six months in the recently opened Nebraska state penitentiary was like attending a criminal finishing school. Heyes learned more about lock picking there than he had learned in the home for wayward boys. And a master's instruction on safe cracking techniques was a bonus. But the cost of this education was very high. By the time Heyes returned to Valparaiso, Jedidiah Curry had disappeared._

"_I tried finding you," explained Heyes. "Old man Pruitt said he thought you signed on with a trail drive going to Cheyenne."_

_Heyes had returned to Wyoming without his cousin. Needing food and shelter, and having a known criminal past, the dark haired outlaw soon joined Big Jim Santana's gang. Over time, rumors about a young blond that was impossibly fast with a gun trickled northward from Texas. Two years after his first botched attempt to reunite with his cousin, Heyes finally heard a name to go with those rumors. The dark haired outlaw travelled south again. _

"_You're getting quite a reputation Jed," said Heyes._

_The further south the dark haired man rode, the more he heard about the young blond gunslinger. With his youthful appearance, and a quick draw that was impossibly fast, Kid Curry as his cousin was now known, had a reputation for being fearless, fast and fond of the ladies. Heyes had finally caught up with the younger man at this noisy saloon in San Antonio. The dark haired older cousin traced his finger around in a circle on the walnut bar. _

"_Faster than anyone, shoots two bullets out of one gun," continued Heyes softly, "killed two men…"_

_Jed's blond head jerked up at Heyes' last words. His cousin's blue eyes glared at Heyes. _

"_Ain't killed nobody," objected Jed._

"_Well I was kinda hoping that rumor was in the same category as shooting two bullets out of one gun," said Heyes in relief. He gave his cousin a dimpled smile._

"_That ain't a rumor," replied Kid Curry. "That's a fact."_

"_What?" asked Heyes in confusion._

_Leaving the saloon, the two men found a quiet spot by the river for a shooting demonstration. If Jed was gratified by his cousin's amazed expression, he tried hard not to let it show._

"_I can usually hit what I aim for," answered the blond. "But there's always going to be someone faster. So far, I've been lucky not to have met that person."_

_After four years separation, Heyes was overjoyed to find his cousin. Secretly, Heyes had hoped that working together they could settle down, find something legal to do and Heyes could get out of the outlaw business someplace where no one knew his name. But his little cousin was now grown into a big man, with a big, dangerous reputation. A reputation that could get Jedidiah Curry killed. Getting his cousin out of Texas alive was more important to Heyes than getting a fresh start in a different state. _

"_What do you say?" coaxed Heyes. "We could be partners. Ride the Chisolm Trail, make our way north." _

"_Dunno," objected Jed. "I don't like cold."_

"_Neither do I Kid," agreed Heyes. _

_The Kansan smiled again, but the raised eyebrows above the blue eyes reminded Heyes that he had never been able to pull one over on his cousin. Jed dropped his gaze again._

"_But Texas is too hot," continued Heyes. _

_He would plead, wheedle and cajole to the best of his silver tongued ability. While Heyes hadn't seen any wanted posters on his younger cousin, he knew the blond's reputation would attract men seeking to make their own reputations by killing the young fast draw. Too many people in Texas knew what Kid Curry looked like. In Heyes mind, further north, where people didn't know yet what Kid Curry looked like had to be safer. Or at least Heyes hoped so._

"_We won't go as far as Canada," promised Heyes. Then he added the best clincher he could, the truth. "I've missed you."_

"_Me too," blurted out Jed._

_The younger man gulped and looked up at Heyes. The dark haired outlaw smiled at his young cousin._

"_I thought you were dead," said Curry. The young blond man looked down quickly, but not before Heyes saw the tears glistening in his blue eyes. "Glad you ain't."_

"_If we ever get separated again," said Heyes, "we'll have to make plans on where to meet up and how to keep in touch if we can't make it on time, you know… contingency plans."_

"_What?" asked the younger man. "What's a contingency?"_

_-x-x-x-x-x-_

"Contingency plans," muttered Heyes. Remembering that Wheat had referred to this as Plan B, Heyes asked, "How many contingency plans?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes didn't get the answer to his question until much later. As the sun began to rise, the gang stopped in the shelter of a tree lined watering hole to change to the fresh mounts that they had left grazing. The pretty blue roan mare that Heyes favored was missing.

"Looks like Jenkins took his horse and Blue Belle too," said Lobo shaking his head. The big outlaw walked Kid's black gelding over to Heyes. "Reckon Kid would want you to take…"

Heyes snatched the reins out of Lobo's hands.

"Yeah," said Heyes. "I'll take Kid's horse and go back for him."

Wheat pointed his pistol at Heyes.

"Now Heyes," objected Wheat, "I can't rightly let you do that."

Heyes barely glanced at the weapon. He tipped his black hat back on his head, placed his hands on his hips and glared at Wheat.

"What are you talking about Wheat?" demanded Heyes angrily.

"Kid's orders are to get you safe," answered Wheat.

"Heyes," added Kyle, "we's jus' following Kid's orders."

"What about my orders?" snapped Heyes.

"Plan B says if Kid gets shot or captured, make sure Heyes gets out safe and back to Devil's Hole," explained Wheat with a slow drawl. The big man raised his pistol towards Heyes for emphasis as spoke. "And don't listen to any arguments Heyes makes, even if you have to point a gun."

Heyes sniffed in frustration. The dark haired outlaw leader would bet good money that Kid's plan also told Wheat that he better not even think about shooting that gun. Heyes took a deep breath and stuffed all the worry about Kid away into the back corner of his mind. Heyes tucked the anger, about Jenkins running out and stealing Blue Belle and Heyes basically being kidnapped by his own men, into other corner's of his mind. Now wasn't the time. He took another deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking.

"So once we get to Devil's Hole, Plan B is done," replied Heyes sounding quietly self-assured as he began to move his saddle from the horse he had been riding to Kid's horse.

Wheat, Kyle, Preacher and Lobo exchanged glances. Kyle looked confused. Preacher shrugged noncommittally. Lobo nodded. Wheat squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest before answering Heyes.

"Yeah, Plan B is done when we get you back to Devil's Hole," agreed the burly man.

"Good," responded Heyes as he mounted Blackie. The Kid's black gelding nickered as Heyes settled into the saddle. "Does Kid have any other contingency plans I should know about?"

Kyle's face brightened. He knew the answer to that question.

"Two others," blurted out Kyle. "Plan A and Plan C."

Wheat's hiss of annoyance let Heyes know that maybe Kid hadn't wanted his contingency plans known.

"That's all?" asked Heyes.

The four outlaws facing him nodded.

"What are they?" demanded Heyes.

The other horses had been saddled now. Wheat, Preacher and Lobo mounted as Kyle continued to talk.

"Plan A is the easiest," allowed Kyle. "Iffen you gets shot or captured, we have to do what Kid says and get you back."

"And what if we both get shot or captured?" asked Heyes.

A worried expression crossed Kyle's face. He chomped on the wad of chewing tobacco in his cheek a moment before answering the leader of the Devil's Hole gang.

"That's Plan C. It's the hardest," replied Kyle. He held up his hand and began ticking the details off on his fingers. "First, if you both get shot or captured, we's supposed to go to Nevada. Then we gots to get jobs in the silver mines. And lastly, forget everything we ever knew about outlawing and you and the Kid."

Heyes blinked. His young cousin managed to surprise Heyes once again. Kyle mounted his horse.

"Well let's get moving," urged Heyes. It would take all day to get to the gang's hideout. "We need to get to Devil's Hole so we can begin work on my next plan."

"And what's that?" asked Wheat as if he didn't know already.

"How to rescue Kid," answered Heyes as he spurred his horse forward.

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	2. Some Rescue Plan!

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate.

Some Rescue Plan!

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The gang arrived at Devil's Hole just as the western sky began to turn crimson. Weary men unsaddled horses and began to tend to the animal's needs. Preacher soon headed to the bunkhouse to begin dinner preparations, while Kyle left to return the unused dynamite to the storage shack further up the hill away from the main buildings. Lobo was near the front of the barn grooming a sturdy chestnut. Heyes finished rubbing down the dun. The outlaw leader moved towards the rear of the barn. Kid's black gelding was next to the horse Wheat was brushing down. Heyes reached up and stroked Blackie's withers before asking the question that had been twisting his gut since Simpsonville.

"How bad was Kid shot?" asked Heyes quietly.

Wheat froze. Heyes watched as the burly outlaw's jaw clenched. Wheat swallowed and then resumed brushing the horse in front of him. The older man didn't turn to face Heyes when he spoke.

"Don't rightly know Heyes," answered Wheat. "I ain't no doctor."

Heyes closed his eyes tightly and leaned his forehead against Blackie. Bad. That's what Wheat meant thought Heyes. The Kansan had known it was bad, but he didn't want to believe it. Heyes had filed the image of his cousin, slumping forward and then being pulled from his horse, away in that part of Heyes' brain where he stored the really bad things. Heyes kept a tight lock on those bloody memories. The sound of Wheat's voice continued over the throbbing in his head. The dark haired young man raised his head as he realized Wheat was still speaking.

"… and there was some blood on his back, but Kid was talking fine," continued Wheat. "Right proddy he was too. Told me in no uncertain terms to be sure and get you out of there."

Talking fine. Heyes clung to those two words. And proddy. That was another word Heyes would hold on to tight. Kid hadn't been gasping out his dying breath. The tall blond had been giving orders, making sure Plan B was followed. Heyes looked over the back of the horse to see Wheat had now turned to face him.

"You done Kid proud," responded Heyes with a faint smile. "You got Kid's Plan B done."

If a man could be said to preen, Wheat did so. The older man's chest puffed out and a big grin spread across his face. The grin quickly disappeared as Wheat began speaking again.

"Rightly, it was all of us done Kid proud," said Wheat in an attempt at modesty.

"Yeah," agreed Heyes in a confidant, encouraging tone. "And it will be all of us that go get him back."

Heyes began to run the curry brush over Blackie. The outlaw leader took his time with the task. Heyes found it soothing to groom Kid's horse. By the time he finished, Lobo and Wheat had already gone to join Preacher and Kyle in the bunk house. Heyes hoisted his saddlebags over one shoulder and grabbed the carpet bag with his other hand. As he passed the bunkhouse, Kyle opened the door.

"Heyes," called out the smaller man. "Do you want some beans and biscuits?"

"Later," replied the dark haired man as he continued on to the leader's cabin.

His stomach was still churning and Heyes didn't think he could eat a thing. Once inside the cabin, Heyes set the saddlebags on the bench beside the door. The safe cracker chucked the carpet bag full of money, which had once seemed so important, under his bunk without a further thought. Heyes raised his hands up and ran his long slender fingers through his dark hair.

"Kid, I'm sorry I ever got you into this business," groaned Heyes as he began to pace across the room.

The rescue plan, which had been made long before the gang reached the watering hole, was simplicity itself: go back to Simpsonville, grab Kid and get back to Devil's Hole. Heyes figured the gang might have to make a lot of noise, shoot a lot, maybe even blow up the jail, but there was no way he was leaving his young cousin to the tender mercies of the Wyoming legal system. The only remaining detail to be worked out was the timing.

"But when?" muttered Heyes.

Aside from those times in Kansas, which Heyes was absolutely not going to think about, Heyes had only seen two men shot up close and personal like. And that was two men too many in Heyes' opinion. Al Plummer might have survived the gunshot if he hadn't broken his neck when he fell off his horse. Heyes figured Al's death might have been part of why Jim Plummer had disappeared soon afterwards, the thirty thousand was just extra. Seeing someone you cared about die…

"Stop it," Heyes told himself.

The slender man tilted his head first to the left, then to the right, before he rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension as he remembered the stage robber. That former member of the Plummer gang had so many holes in him, there was never any question about him riding again. But Jedidiah Curry, talking fine and proddy, Jed had to be fine. A wagon would never make it to Devil's Hole. To get out of Simpsonville, and up to the mountain hideout, Jed had to be able to ride.

"How soon Jed?" asked Heyes as he sat down before the small round table and rested his head in his hands. "How soon are you going to be able to ride?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next morning, Kyle opened the door to Heyes cabin. Midmorning light streamed through the opening, waking the outlaw leader. Heyes lifted his head off the wooden table. He stretched uncomfortably trying to get the kinks out of his shoulder muscles. Dark brown eyes blinked. Usually Heyes was up at dawn when Kid left the cabin for his early morning shooting practice.

"Heyes," asked Kyle, "are you all right?"

"Never better," answered the outlaw leader. Heyes moved toward the cast iron stove and picked up the blue enamel coffee pot. "Would you tell the boys to come up here? I want to go over the plan."

Kyle's face lit up with a big grin. The chaw of tobacco quickly moved from the left cheek to the right.

"We's gonna go get Kid?" asked Kyle in an excited tone.

"Yeah," responded Heyes. Although he would have preferred everyone to leave right now, the outlaw leader would only send Preacher south today. The rest of the gang would head northeast at first light tomorrow morning. "And Kyle, when we go, I'll need you to bring a lot of dynamite. We're going to need it."

"Woohee!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes, Wheat, Kyle, and Lobo rode into Wildwood the next day just before sundown. The little town nestled at the foot of the mountains northwest of Simpsonville boasted a good saloon, a discreet population and no sheriff. The four men entered the saloon. They settled at a table covered in green felt in the back corner to wait for Preacher. Heyes signaled to the bartender. In a few moments, a petite red-head approached carrying a tray of shot glasses, a bottle of whisky, an unopened deck of cards and a box of brightly colored poker chips.

"Hello boys," greeted Betsy as she started setting down the glasses. The smile on her face faltered as she realized the person she was looking for wasn't with them tonight. "Where's…"

Betsy stopped speaking abruptly as if she realized her question might be taken wrong. Heyes looked up at the young saloon girl. He knew his blond cousin enjoyed talking to the buxom young woman, but Heyes had never seen Curry take her upstairs. And Heyes doubted he ever would. With her red curls, Betsy looked too much like Kid's oldest sister at sixteen.

"Kid won't be joining us tonight," said Heyes smoothly, answering her unfinished question. "Next time."

As she set the bottle down, Heyes flipped a Double Eagle towards her. The smile returned to her face. The twenty dollar gold coin was quite a bit more than the cost of the whisky and rooms for the night.

"Jake's got some stew and biscuits in back," offered Betsy.

"That would be real good. We're expecting one more man to join us later," explained Heyes as he opened up the card deck. "For now we just want a hot meal, a drink and a quiet card game."

Betsy nodded in understanding. She turned to leave and pulled a decorative folding screen out, blocking the view of the corner table from the rest of the saloon.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was nearing midnight when Preacher finally arrived at the saloon in Wildwood. His circuitous route from Devil's Hole had taken the man south, out of the mountains, and then southeast to the stage route yesterday. From there, Preacher had followed the road north to the crossroads at Simpsonville. Dressed in the guise of a clergyman, no one paid any attention to him when Preacher stopped for a meal and to listen to the local gossip before continuing on his journey.

"Kid ain't dead," confirmed Preacher.

The man pulled off his rounded black hat and the starched white collar from around his throat as he slipped into the vacant chair next to Heyes. At Preacher's words, the dark haired Kansan felt the hardness that had been clenching his chest since the robbery in Simpsonville start to loosen. Heyes tossed his cards down on the table and began to smile.

"But he ain't in the jail neither," added Preacher.

"What?" asked Heyes. The smile disappeared as his dark brown eyes widened in alarm. Surely it was too soon for Kid to have been sent to prison? "Then where…"

"That house at the edge of town is the doc's place," interrupted Preacher. "They've still got the Kid there."

"Why?" demanded Heyes. His chest tightened again. "How bad is Kid hurt?"

"All I know is the doc is keeping him," answered Preacher with a hangdog expression. "Sorry, I know you was wanting me to find out about Kid, but only two people go in and out of that house."

"Who?"

"The doc and the sheriff," replied Preacher. "And I figure you didn't want me ask them directly."

Heyes sighed in a combination of worry and frustration. He had trusted Preacher to find out if Kid would be able to ride, but now they still didn't know. The good people of Simpsonville had taken his wounded cousin directly to the doctor. And Kid was still there. How bad was Kid injured? Heyes leaned back in his seat, his lips pursed with thought. Preacher cautiously cleared his throat. Heyes looked up at the man.

"There's just one more thing," added Preacher, "the posse brought back three men Thursday morning. They're in the jail."

"Who?"

"Don't know," answered Preacher.

Heyes looked at the faces surrounding the small table. Robbing banks in the middle of the night was a good way for the gang to remain anonymous, but he didn't want someone else being blamed for what he and the boys had done. He would have to do something about that too. Right after he found out about Kid.

"Well whoever they are, we know the posse has got the wrong men," replied Heyes.

He brought his hands together, steepling his fingers. Around the table, Wheat, Lobo, and Kyle exchanged a worried glance with Preacher, but none of the outlaws said anything. They knew not to speak when Heyes had his thinking face on. Kyle and Lobo were starting to nudge one another, and Wheat began cautiously tapping the green cloth covering the table, before Heyes spoke again.

"Plans change," announced the outlaw leader. "We'll need to split up. I'll need to do some reconnaissance first, then..."

"Do what?" interrupted Kyle tilting his head sideways and looking puzzled.

"Reconnaissance," answered Heyes. "We need to get more information first before we can rescue Kid. Then we can meet up outside of town to go over the new plan."

"Why do we need a new plan?" asked Wheat raising his eyebrow.

"Because Kid isn't in jail," explained Heyes patiently. "No use blowing a hole in the jail…"

Across from Heyes, Kyle's head snapped up. The scruffy little outlaw looked disgruntled.

"Does this mean I don't get to use my dynamite again?" complained Kyle.

"Not right away," answered Heyes, "but maybe later."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes adjusted the suspenders once more before stepping out of the bedroom above the saloon. Wheat, Kyle, Preacher and Lobo gaped at their changed leader. The large brown tweed suit Heyes had bought from the drummer in the saloon was too big for the slender man, but the padding Heyes had wrapped around his abdomen and covered with a wide leather strap helped fill out the suit. Preacher's rounded black hat was pulled down low over the mastermind's face. Dark whiskers left unshaven since the robbery covered the lower half of Heyes' face.

"Well, I don't know if I'd recognize you right off," allowed Lobo. "And I know what you're supposed to look like."

Heyes flashed a dimpled grin. Beside Lobo, Wheat leaned back against the wall and stroked his chin while assessing Heyes' changed visage.

"You really gonna just walk into the doc's office?" asked Wheat finally.

"It's the only way to find out about Kid," replied Heyes with what he hoped was a confidant grin.

"And then you're gonna walk into the sheriff's office too?" asked Wheat

"Not when the deputy is there of course, but yes. The sheriff never really got a good look at me," replied Heyes. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Besides where else would a person go to report a stolen horse?"

The question seemed to flummox the outlaws. Preacher, Lobo, Wheat and Kyle exchanged an uneasy glance. Then the littlest outlaw screwed up his courage and spoke out.

"And what if you isn't fine?" demanded Kyle. "What if the sheriff arrests you?"

Heyes rocked back on his heels and seemed to give the question serious thought. The calculating gleam in his eye seemed to indicate the outlaw leader thought the possibility of arrest unlikely, but it was worth the risk. Heyes would do whatever was necessary to make sure his cousin was alright.

"If I don't meet you boys at the trailhead outside of Simpsonville by sundown," answered the outlaw leader in a serious tone that was only slightly offset by a smirk, "then I guess you boys will have to fall back to Kid's other contingency plan."

The scruffy little outlaw's jaw dropped open. He backed up a step, bumping into Wheat.

"You mean Plan C?" quavered Kyle as Heyes strode towards the stairs. "I don't like that plan."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

The only passenger on the early morning stage, Heyes slept sprawled across the seat for almost the entire long bumpy ride from Wildwood to Simpsonville. The stagecoach arrived just before noon. When Heyes climbed out of the stagecoach he pressed his hand to his aching back. The grimace of pain was only partly for the role of aching traveler that Heyes was determined to portray for this reconnaissance expedition.

"Are you all right there young fella?" asked the white haired stage master.

"Not quite sure," groaned Heyes. "Does this town have a doctor?"

The older man pointed to the white frame house at the end of the dusty street. The outlaw leader gave a nod of his head. Heyes shuffled slowly down the street towards the building that held Kid. Sharp eyed glances noted the location of every person going about their business in the small town. When Heyes finally reached the doctor's house, he hesitated a moment. Then he took a deep breath and began to climb the stairs. The front door opened before him and the sheriff strode out. Heyes twisted sideways, grabbing the splintered railing and turning his back to the lawman.

"You let me know when that outlaw wakes up Doc," growled the aging lawman. "I need to know his name and who rode with him."

The doctor, a middle-aged man, pushed his spectacles up further on his nose but didn't say anything. The sheriff thumped his way past Heyes without even a glance. Heyes breathed a sigh of relief as the lawman began walking towards the jailhouse. Then the doctor's gaze settled on Heyes.

"You've come to the right place," said the doctor. The man grabbed Heyes by the arm and bustled him inside the building. The sandy haired doctor pointed at the padded area surrounding Heyes' abdomen. "I can help you with that hernia. Let me take a look at your truss."

"What?" asked Heyes in alarm. The outlaw leader waved his hands and stepped back out of the doctor's reach. "Don't go touching me!"

"Don't you want me to examine you?" asked the puzzled doctor. "I'm sure I can help."

A physical examination wasn't part of Heyes' plan, but at least he was inside the Doc's home. Alert dark brown eyes looked around. Four doors flanked the central hallway. A stairway on the right between the nearest door and the rearmost door led upwards. The open door on the right led to a parlor that appeared to double as a waiting room. A glance through the open door on the left showed what must be the doc's operating room. While the rearmost door on the left was also open, Heyes couldn't see into that room, and the rear door on the right was shut.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," continued the doctor in a soothing tone. "Hernia's are very common…"

"No, I was looking for the sheriff," answered Heyes with a shake of his head. He extended his right hand. "But if you have some tweezers, I would really appreciate it if you could pull these out."

"You just missed him," replied the doctor. "He walked right by you."

"I didn't realize," began Heyes, "ooh!"

The doctor carefully pulled the shards of dried wood. Heyes winced occasionally, but mainly concentrated on listening. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

"What was the sheriff saying about an outlaw?" asked Heyes conversationally as the last splinter came out.

Metal clanked as the doctor set his tweezers down on a nearby tray. The white coated man picked up a bottle of clear liquid. Heyes hissed as the man poured the disinfectant over his fingers.

"Horace has a job to do. He wants to find out who robbed the bank and get the money back," replied the doctor. He pushed his glasses up again and sighed. "But I've got a responsibility too. I can't let Horace go interrogating my patient or dragging him off to jail. At least not until he's well enough to be moved."

"You've got a dangerous bank robber here!" exclaimed Heyes. He withdrew his hand from the doctor's grasp and tried to look worried. It wasn't hard. The Kansan was worried.

"What I've got," corrected the doctor, "is a wounded boy."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes finally got away from the well-meaning doctor. The dark haired outlaw dallied outside the general store. When Heyes saw the deputy leave the jailhouse and walk towards the diner, the outlaw leader made his move. He crossed the trampled street and approached the jailhouse. He took a deep breath. Climbing up the three steps to the entrance, Heyes walked into the sheriff's office.

"Sheriff," greeted the outlaw leader extending his hand.

Dark brown eyes darted around the tiny jail, noting every detail. Those same eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the occupants of the cells behind the sheriff. Heyes winced as the sheriff grasped his hand and shook it hard. The sheriff's handshake froze as he heard Heyes address his prisoners.

"Deputy Trevors," greeted Heyes. "And both Mr. Latimers."

"You know these bank robbers?" asked the sheriff. "Who are you?"

The heavyset, moustached man behind bars looked up in surprise. In the adjacent cell, Hanford Latimer looked up as well, but his younger brother Willard appeared to be asleep. Heyes willed the men behind bars to keep quiet as he answered the sheriff's questions.

"Norton P. Terwilliger," Heyes identified himself. The silver tongue began to spin a tale. "And yes, I know these good men, but goodness gracious, they're not bank robbers."

"I keep telling the sheriff that," muttered Lom sullenly.

Heyes flashed a look that said be quiet to his friend. Lombard Trevors had left Devil's Hole shortly after Heyes and Kid returned from Texas. Heyes could truthfully say that whatever else Lom had done, the man had never robbed a bank, at least as far as Heyes knew. And the Latimer boys usually robbed stages, but then they also usually worked north of Wildwood. Heyes pulled out Blue Belle's slightly modified bill of sale and waved it in front of the sheriff.

"Been going to the Bar T horse auctions for years," continued Heyes. "See these folks there every year."

The largest horse ranch two days ride north of Simpsonville was known throughout the territory for their horse sales. Heyes pointed to the date on the papers for the blue roan mare. Emphasizing the first word, Heyes continued speaking.

"Deputy Trevors nearly outbid me on this fine animal Monday morning," said the loquacious man.

Heyes watched as the sheriff realized the significance of that statement. There wasn't a train in this tiny town. If Lom had been at the Bar T Monday morning, there was no way the moustached man could have been in Simpsonville Monday night robbing a bank.

"And while we were at dinner that evening, Mr. Hanford Latimer tried to buy Blue Belle," added Heyes with a rueful shake of his head. "Wish now I had sold that fine animal. I wouldn't be here to report a stolen horse if I had."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Hanford Latimer and his brother rode quickly northward kicking up a dust cloud as they disappeared over the hill. Heyes, riding a rented horse from the livery stable, shook his head. Trevors looked at his friend quizzically.

"So that bank robbery," began Trevors.

"Oh Lom," sighed Heyes, "you really don't want to know."

"You risked…," started Trevors.

"Friends help each other out," interrupted Heyes.

Trevors nodded. The two men rode together until the split in the northbound road. Heyes turned his mount towards the trailhead where he was to meet the boys. Trevors stayed on the main road. Porterville was a good two day ride at least.

"I owe you one," said Trevors.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Did you see Kid?" asked Kyle impatiently as he watched Heyes shave the stubble from his face.

The tiny mirror balanced carefully in the tree branch reflected the outlaw leader's worried gaze. Heyes winced as the blade caught. Sharpness scraped skin, leaving a narrow line of red down his throat. Beside him, the discarded disguise sat on a nearby rock. The outlaw leader reached for a cloth from pile of padding and blotted the cut.

"No," answered Heyes, "but I know where he is. And we're going back tonight."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Sssh Kyle," admonished Heyes. The outlaw leader eased up the rear window on the doc's house. "I'm going to find Kid. If you see anything, you can fire a warning shot."

"Anything?" asked Kyle.

The little outlaw's face brightened with a smile as he pulled out his decrepit old pistol. Further down the side of the building, near the main street, Wheat stood sentry in the shadows. Lobo and Preacher were waiting on the far side of the doc's house with the horses.

"Anything that means we should be leaving in a hurry, like the doc coming back from the saloon," clarified Heyes hastily. "Otherwise be quiet."

The slender, dark haired young man boosted himself up and wiggled through the narrow opening. Heyes was at the end of the same hallway he'd been in earlier that day. Heyes could now see that the rearmost open door he had seen previously led to a kitchen. The door that had been shut earlier, remained shut. Heyes moved forward and cautiously turned the knob. The door swung open. A familiar figure lay quietly on a wrought iron bed.

"Kid," whispered Heyes.

Heedless, Heyes hurried to the Kid's bedside. His young cousin looked paler than normal. White bandages around the blond's left bicep thoroughly covered the wound Kid had described as a scratch. More bandages peeked out from beneath the edge of the crisp white sheets that were pulled up midway on the man's chest. Heyes watched the gentle rise and fall of Kid's chest.

"Kid," called Heyes again softly.

The silver tongued man was at a loss for words. He leaned forward. Damp blond curls clung to Curry's forehead. The older Kansan placed his hand across his cousin's forehead. Kid was cool.

"Fever finally broke a little while ago," said an unexpected voice.

Dark brown eyes blinked in surprise. Heyes twisted around quickly, his gun hand reaching for the pistol strapped down on his leg, but he didn't draw the weapon. In the far corner of the bedroom was a rocking chair. A tiny white haired woman rocked gently back in forth. A large multi-colored bundle of fabrics spread across her lap and trailed down on to the floor. The woman's needle pierced the layered fabrics as she continued talking.

"Boy, don't you even try to pull a gun in this house," admonished the woman in a tone that indicated only one answer was expected.

It had been a long time since the twenty-two year old gang leader had been called a boy, but Heyes knew he wasn't going to argue with the elderly woman.

"No Ma'am," agreed Heyes. He lowered his hand to rest on Kid's bedside.

"That boy has been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last few days," continued the little old woman with a nod towards Kid. "Most younguns call for their Ma when they're hurt, but he kept calling for somebody named Han."

"His Ma is dead," blurted out Heyes.

The outlaw leader blinked. Had that harsh tone actually come from his mouth? In front of him, the rocker continued its' slow back and forth motion.

"Thought it might be something like that," responded the wrinkled woman with a knowing nod. Her hazel eyes looked at him appraisingly. She frowned. "Are you Han?"

The dark haired man's mouth opened and then shut again wordlessly. So that was why the sheriff had arrested Hanford Latimer thought Heyes. Even though one of the men camped with Latimer had a badge, the sheriff had been sure he had caught the bank robbers. The slender man turned back to look at Kid. Something in the expression on his face gave the woman pause. Her frown softened.

"My son, that's Doctor Pritchard to you," informed the woman, "worked very hard to save your friends life. Got the bleeding under control as quick as he could, gave him laudanum for the pain. I've been tending him since then."

"I'm very grateful to you and your son Ma'am," responded Heyes politely.

"Took a while to get the bullet out, but don't worry, neither of the wounds should leave too much of a scar," added the woman. "I did the finish stitching at the end."

Heyes smiled at the sound of pride in the woman's words. As she continued chattering on, he glanced at the tiny white line behind Kid's ear. The narrow scar at the base of the younger man's skull disappeared into the blond hair. He remembered his mother, Moira Curry Heyes had been a quilter too. The old woman's question, left Heyes thinking. He hadn't been Han, not really anyway, since that day in Kansas when the third group of raiders attacked.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

_Han followed his father into their home. His mother looked up from her stitching. Jed's curly blond head was in her lap. The eight year old boy's arms and legs were sprawled haphazardly across the bed she was sitting on. Tear streaks crossed her face. A few month's previously, the first raider's incursion had left a smoldering barn, trampled fields and a dead cow. Today, while the Heyes family were in town getting supplies, the second raiding group's assault had been so much worse._

"_Moira," asked Arthur Heyes gently, "what do you want me to use… to wrap them up in?"_

_His mother wiped a hand across her face, then gently moved the unconscious boy's head to the pillow, before answering. The Curry home had been burned to the ground. Her brother, sister-in-law and their youngest daughter were dead. Sixteen year old Maeve was missing. Han followed his mother's gaze to the stunned old man sitting in the rocking chair by the fire. Han's younger sister, Cleo, was trying to spoon some broth into Grampa Curry's mouth. Han's mother glanced back down at her injured nephew and started to gently remove the quilt from beneath him. _

"_Hannibal, please get the Geese In Flight quilt from Cleopatra's bed," replied Moira._

_In the little family plot__ on the low rise between the Heyes homestead and what had once been the Curry homestead, auburn haired Uncle Owen and tiny blonde Aunt Mary were laid to rest beside the old graves of their __two stillborn babies__. The couple was wrapped together in the big double wedding ring quilt that had graced Han's parent's bed for as long as he could remember. Fourteen year old Bridget was wrapped in his sister's blue and white quilt. She was laid next to the newer grave of Han's older brother Ptolemy. Ptol and seventeen year old Henry Curry had run off to fight for Kansas and freedom. Ptol had returned home in a government provided pine box. Henry was listed as missing, presumed dead._

"_Ma, is Jed… is Jed gonna be alright?" asked Han. _

_His mother wrapped her arm around his shoulders as they started back to the Heyes home. Inside, nine year old Cleo waited with __Grampa Curry and the unconscious__ boy. _

"_Give him time," sighed his mother. _

_Three days later __soldiers from the nearby fort __located and returned Maeve's body. By then Jed was awake, but not talking. __The corporal insisted on speaking to Grampa Curry and Jed about the attack. _

"_Do you know who did this?" asked the soldier. _"_Was it Quantrill?" _

"_I don't know who it was," quavered Grampa Curry. _

_A blue eyed glare was all the soldier got from Jed. After the soldiers left, __Maeve was wrapped in a rainbow colored log cabin quilt. She was tenderly buried beside Bridget. Han watched Jed all the while. __The eight year old's eyes kept darting around as if he expected raiders to return at any minute._

_"__Those raiders are long gone now," said Han as the boys started back to the Heyes home. _

"_You think so?" asked his cousin doubtfully. "Some of the men wore gray, some of the men wore blue, some of them wore both."_

_Two weeks after Jed's ninth birthday, a third huge raiding group marched through, attacking homes and settlements along the state border. The massacre at a nearby town was just the beginning. The Heyes home was burned to the ground, and there were no quilts left to wrap Moira and Arthur Heyes, their daughter Cleopatra and Grampa Curry. In the resulting chaos, two devastated boys lied about their ages in order to stay together. The first lie was Jed's._

"_Less than ten gets sent to the children's home. Ten and older gets separated out to boys home or the girls home," hissed Jed. "You're scrawny, but you can't pass for nine. I'm going with you to the boy's home."_

_The slight, dark haired boy looked up at the approaching man with the clipboard. The man was writing names down, separating dazed and frightened children into different groups. _

"_The Valparaiso Home for Wayward Boys doesn't sound like a good place," objected the older boy. _

"_And you think this is a good place?" asked Jed incredulously. _

_Han didn't. Not anymore. The second lie was Han's. The state run orphanage separated out dormitory assignments by age. To be in the same building as his younger cousin, the now thirteen year old boy said he was only twelve. The little lies didn't seem like a bad thing then. In the classrooms only last names were used. The boys called Jed and Han, became Curry and Heyes. _

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes' head snapped up at the woman's words.

"My stitching won't leave a big scar like that other one…," continued the doctor's mother.

"What?" asked the dark haired man. "What other scar?"

"The scar on his upper right thigh," replied the older woman. "We had to remove all his clothing, everything was spattered with blood."

Heyes looked around the room. On top of the dresser beside the woman he saw an oil lamp, a water pitcher and a glass.

"Are his clothes in the dresser?"

"We cut off his coat, vest and shirt, they went in the trash," answered the woman. She sniffed. "Bloodstains are hard to wash out. Pants and long johns went too. Everything except his boots."

Heyes turned to face Kid.

"This may pose a problem," whispered Heyes to the still form beside him. "And you would think something like a gunshot wound in the leg might have come up at least once during the long ride from Texas."

He turned back to face the woman as he heard her harrumph. She raised her eyebrows.

"You didn't know that he'd been shot in the leg," she stated flatly,

Heyes shook his head. He knew that Kid had been shot once long ago in Kansas, but Kid hadn't said anything about more recent wounds.

"Based on the scar, I would say it happened well over a year ago, maybe two," explained the white haired woman. "And the way it healed, looks like someone just wrapped a belt around it. Doesn't look like he ever had proper treatment, must have been painful, but don't you worry, my son believes in pain management. Your friend got the proper dosage of laudanum and…"

As the woman's voice chattered on, Kid's eyelashes fluttered. Blue eyes opened. A dimpled grin spread across Heyes' face.

"So you finally decided to wake up," teased the dark haired outlaw leader. "It's about time."

"Wh… where am I?" asked the Kid in a groggy voice. "What happened?"

"You've been shot," answered Heyes. "You're at the doc's house."

Blue eyes cleared as awareness returned.

"And this nice lady is the doctor's mother," introduced Heyes with a gesture to the woman seated in the rocking chair.

Heyes didn't miss the wince of pain that crossed Kid's face as he turned his head sideways on the pillow to look.

"Ma'am," acknowledged the injured man.

The tiny woman flashed a smile at Kid as she continued sewing. The rocking chair creaked as she settled back farther into the seat.

"She's been telling me about the scar you've got on your upper right thigh," said Heyes in a questioning tone.

Kid shot his partner a glare. The only reward Heyes got for his efforts was a terse statement.

"Been shot before," replied Kid.

Hmmm, well Heyes would find out about that later. Outside, Heyes heard Kyle's call. The little outlaw's voice was followed by the sound of a shot being fired from Wheat's old Colt Army Revolver.

"I think it's time for me to go now," said the dark haired Kansan.

The blonde started to move, but then winced again. Heyes heard Kid's quick indrawn breath. The older man laid a hand on Kid's bare chest to still him.

"Not so fast," cautioned Heyes. "Easy does it."

"I can ride," stated Curry.

"Don't you move at all!" ordered the white haired woman. She stood up. Brandishing her sewing needle, she continued, "All my stitches will rip out. You could bleed to death if you try moving too soon."

Heyes blanched. The woman's dire words were followed by the sound of another shot outside. Kid gave a small moan as he tried to move again. The outlaw leader pressed down on Kid's chest.

"You ain't leaving me here," protested Kid.

"No," agreed Heyes. "Not ever leaving you. This is just temporary, a strategic withdrawal."

"Heyes," protested Curry with a frown.

"And besides, it's not polite to argue with a lady," reminded Heyes. He leaned in closer to his cousin to whisper. "You work on getting well enough to ride, and don't worry. I'll be back for you."

Curry glowered. The blond struggled to raise himself up on the bed, but Heyes held him down.

"And when I come back next time," whispered Heyes with a smirk, "I'll bring you some clothes."

"This is some rescue plan Heyes," called Kid in a sarcastic tone of voice as the outlaw leader hurried from the room.

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	3. A Real Rescue Plan

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate.

A Real Rescue Plan

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Hannibal Heyes led the Devil's Hole gang out of Simpsonville again, this time riding Kid's black gelding. Preacher was leading the big bay Kid had been riding when he was shot. Earlier this evening, the errant man of the cloth returned Heyes' rented horse to the livery. He and Lobo tied up the stable man and took the bay along with Kid's saddle. Heyes glanced at the wounded animal. The bay's rump had a scabbed line across it, but the creature was galloping fine. No one said a word until they stopped beneath the cottonwood trees at the same secluded watering hole they had visited the night of the robbery.

"What made you start shooting?" asked Heyes as he climbed off Blackie.

Wheat was already off his horse and tamping down ball and shot into his old muzzle loaded pistol. Heyes wondered sometimes where the man had gotten the revolver. Wheat never talked about being in the army, but not many men his age had escaped involvement in the Civil War.

"First shot was to let you know Doc left the saloon," answered Wheat as he rotated the barrel of the pistol and began the painstaking process again. "Second shot was when he was close enough to see me."

"You weren't supposed to let anyone see you," exclaimed Heyes in annoyance.

"A little late now," responded Wheat. As he snapped the pistol barrel back into place, Wheat added, "Doc's gonna need a new railing for his stairs."

Heyes grinned at that remembering the dry and splintered wood. Doc's front steps needed a new railing long before Wheat shot it up. The outlaw leader saw Kyle's glum expression.

"What's wrong Kyle?" asked the slender dark haired man as he moved towards the brown horse he planned on riding next.

"We didn't rescue Kid!" exclaimed the scruffy little man indignantly. Disappointment was evident on Kyle's face.

Heyes sighed. Leaving Kid behind tonight in Simpsonville was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It ranked right up there with leaving his cousin in Valparaiso years before. Leaving a wounded Kid behind the night of the robbery… well that was a whole different kind of hard. Heyes clapped Kyle on the shoulder.

"Tonight was the reconnaissance plan, Kid needs to heal some more," reminded Heyes. "We're getting Kid back the next time we go to Simpsonville."

Kyle's face brightened, and Heyes noted that Wheat, Preacher and Lobo looked up from what they were doing with a hopeful expression.

"But we're going to need some things first," began Heyes. Brown eyes quickly searched the little group and came to rest on one man. "Lobo, did anyone in town get a good look at you?"

"Nah," replied the man. Lobo shook his mane of dark hair for emphasis. "Preacher put a sack over the livery man's head. He never even saw me."

"Good," said Heyes with a broad smile. The mastermind started talking about the revised rescue plan. "This is what I need you to do…"

A short while later, Lobo trotted south on a circuitous path. Wheat and Preacher left the watering hole soon afterwards, leading the extra horses up the moonlit trail towards Devil's Hole. Heyes and Kyle rode the trail north until clouds skittered across the moon and they had to stop for the night. The next morning at daybreak, they resumed their journey.

"But we ain't had breakfast yet," protested Kyle.

"Only a little further," encouraged Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I hates waitin'," grumbled Kyle.

The little outlaw scratched, sighed and looked around as if searching for something. Heyes had to agree, he hated waiting too. Saturday at least he had been able to keep busy. After getting Kyle settled in the abandoned homestead the gang had used last week in preparation for the Simpsonville bank job, Heyes had continued north to Wildwood. The rickety chuck wagon he had purchased yesterday would be instrumental to his rescue plan. The outlaw leader only hoped that he wouldn't need to transport Kid in the wagon too.

"Waitin' is the worst, and I can't just keep watching you pace," said Kyle. "I think I'll count my dynamite again."

Heyes stopped abruptly. Brown eyes blinked in disbelief. Again? Really? The satchel Kyle carried full of dynamite sticks had been lovingly unpacked and repacked at least three different times since arriving at the homestead.

"Do that outside," ordered Heyes as he resumed pacing. Waiting. Heyes only wished that waiting was the worst part of any job.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Lobo arrived before sundown. Heyes watched the black clad outlaw canter towards the farmhouse anxiously. Lobo wasn't expected to be here unless something changed in Simpsonville. Dark brown eyes widened as Heyes saw a Lobo's swollen lip and bruised face.

"What happened to you?" asked Heyes as the man dismounted. "You look like you've been in a fight. You were just supposed to hang around town and listen for news."

"There were a couple of men at the saloon who just don't like drifters," sighed Lobo as he rubbed the side of his face. "But it worked out for the best."

Heyes couldn't imagine how getting beaten could be considered a good thing. The outlaw leader would never have sent Lobo, or any of his men, back to Simpsonville if he thought they would get hurt. Heyes would have gone himself and taken his chances on the sheriff or Doc's mother seeing him again.

"What do you mean?" asked Heyes

"Saloonkeeper is a good sort. He made sure I went to the Doc's," answered Lobo.

For a moment, Heyes hoped that Lobo had seen his partner. How was Kid? Would an extra couple of days rest have made a difference in the blond's condition? Lobo must have seen the hope in his eyes. The shaggy haired man shook his head as he answered.

"Didn't see Kid, but I was in the examining room when the sheriff came by to see Doc, I heard them talking," continued Lobo. "Sheriff told Doc that he's coming for his prisoner tomorrow. Doc's supposed to have Kid ready to leave by noon."

Heyes remembered what the doctor had said about responsibility, the sheriff's responsibility, and the doctor's.

"Did Doctor Pritchard say Kid was well enough to be moved?" asked Heyes.

"Don't matter none what Doc says now. Sheriff said circuit judge is arriving Tuesday, and he wants Kid ready for a trial," replied Lobo. The tall man rolled his shoulders and sighed. "One more thing…"

Heyes looked up at the older outlaw.

"Sheriff caught Jenkins," added Lobo.

Could it get any worse? Heyes ran his slender fingers through the dark hair on his head trying to reassess the situation. The plan originally called for all of them. Would three men be enough to rescue Kid?

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Slightly after sundown, the sound of hoof steps alerted Heyes to the arrival of Wheat and Preacher. Heyes hurried to open the front door and stepped outside into the night air. The Kansan was relieved to see the two men. Heyes knew how hard Wheat and Preacher must have travelled to be here now. The outlaw leader hadn't really been expecting them from Devil's Hole until tomorrow. And tomorrow would have been too late.

"I sure am glad to see you boys," greeted Heyes. "Plan has changed some since we spoke on Friday.

"Seems like plans is always changin'," replied Wheat with a scowl.

The burly man dismounted and pulled a familiar carpet bag off the pommel of his saddle. The older outlaw stomped past Heyes into the farmhouse. Preacher reached behind his saddle and untied Kid's bedroll.

"Did you check it?" asked Heyes.

Bushy dark eyebrows raised as Preacher looked at Heyes in surprise.

"Yeah," replied Preacher's low gravelly voice. "And when Kid's gray pants and red shirt weren't rolled up inside like you said, I checked the washroom."

"Then why did you bring Kid's bedroll?" asked Heyes.

The outlaw leader wasn't going to tell Preacher that Kid probably wouldn't need the clothing now. If Lobo was right that the Sheriff was having Kid moved tomorrow, it was unlikely the Sheriff would parade his prisoner to the jailhouse in his birthday suit.

"Figured if Kid doesn't like stuffing his clothes in saddlebags," answered Preacher, "he won't like me stuffing his change of clothes in my saddlebag."

The older man slowly moved up the stairs onto the porch and went inside. Heyes followed. Inside the tiny homestead, the carpet bag sat on the rickety table in the center of the room. Wheat still had one hand on the bag as if he couldn't quite let it go. The burly man faced Heyes

"Even though it goes 'gainst all my principles, I brought it," began Wheat belligerently.

Heyes spread his hands out wide in a placating gesture. The silver tongued charmer began to marshal his arguments. Heyes figured he could soft talk the outlaw, convince Wheat that bringing the money was just a precaution. It would be best to have all available options at the ready, but coercion wasn't necessary.

"Iffen you think this is the best plan, reckon we can do this, just this once now," continued Wheat, "for the Kid."

Heyes looked around the crowded room from Wheat, to Preacher, to Lobo, to Kyle. The four outlaws nodded in agreement. Heyes swallowed. His dark brown eyes blinked away sudden moisture.

"Thanks boys," said Heyes.

Kyle carefully lifted the cooking pot out of the fire. Heyes sniffed appreciatively. The little outlaw had brought down a grouse with his slingshot earlier. Late summer greens and wild onions had simmered along with the bird over a low fire most of the afternoon. Kyle set the three legged cast iron kettle down beside the carpet bag.

"Is you hungry?" asked the outlaw. The little man nodded encouragingly. "You ain't been eating right, and you needs to keep your strength up, you know, for all that pacing."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The return to Simpsonville began Monday morning as the faintest gray light filtered through clouds in the east. Heyes moved forward on Kid's big strong black gelding. Wheat, Preacher and Lobo followed next. Kyle sat on the seat of an aging chuck wagon.

"Yeehaw," shouted Kyle.

Four horses strained and pulled the rattling clanking wagon forward. Heyes looked at the little outlaw in surprise.

"I've always wanted to say that," said Kyle with a grin.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The little group stopped at midmorning on the trailhead just above Simpsonville. The outlaw leader gestured to Wheat, Preacher and Lobo. The three men nodded. They separated and disappeared off the trail into the grasslands in a slow meandering ride towards town.

"I hates waitin'," said Kyle. The chaw of tobacco moved around inside his mouth, then he spat a dark brown splatter into the dusty road.

"We're not waiting," reminded Heyes.

Kyle's eyes lit up with excitement.

"We's gonna rescue Kid now," agreed Kyle.

"Yes, but we are going slow," repeated Heyes for the umpteenth time. "Remember, pull the wagon up between the bank and the mercantile, but don't start anything until I give you the signal."

"And what's the signal again?" asked Kyle.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was after eleven when Heyes and Kyle entered Simpsonville. If anyone asked, Heyes planned on spinning a tale of two drovers looking to buy supplies. The outlaw leader loosely tied Blackie to the hitching post in front of the mercantile. Heyes walked in and pretended to look at the merchandise. Outside, Kyle pulled the wagon to a complete stop, blocking the alley between the mercantile and the bank. The shopkeeper craned his head to look out his front window at the little man. Heyes improvised.

"Do you have any forty-four caliber cartridges?" asked Heyes. The outlaw held up his Smith & Wesson Model 3. The shopkeeper looked startled at first, but then smiled when Heyes added, "I'd like to buy a box."

Done with his purchase, Heyes stepped outside onto the walkway. Kyle was gone. The Kansan glanced across the street to the diner where he could see the sheriff. Then Heyes strode over to the big gelding and tucked the extra bullets into his saddlebag. His gun was already loaded. Across the dusty roadway, the door to the diner slammed. Heyes looked up.

"A little early now aren't you Sheriff?" muttered Heyes.

Alert brown eyes assessed the location of the visible townspeople. Heyes didn't see any of the Devil's Hole gang, but he didn't expect to either.

"Sheriff," called the young deputy as he hurriedly left the diner and ran towards the older lawman, "wait for me."

Heyes untied Blackie from the hitching post and started walking in the same general direction as the two lawmen. The outlaw leader stopped outside the noisy saloon, as if considering going inside. Out of the corner of his eyes, the Kansan watched the lawmen approach the last house on the left. After the men entered Doc Pritchard's house, Heyes tugged the gelding's reins again. The slender man and the big horse continued down the street, leaving behind the saloon and Millie's Boarding House. Heyes stopped opposite the Doc's home. Heyes looked around cautiously, no one seemed to be paying him any attention. Man and horse crossed the street. Standing near the front corner of the porch, Heyes strained his ears to listen. It was hard to hear the voices coming from the rear bedroom. Heyes leaned in closer, squinting his eyes in concentration. The low murmurs were almost as hard to hear as tumblers in a safe.

"My patient isn't ready to be moved," said Doc Pritchard.

"Muriel, what have you done?" sounded the exasperated voice of the sheriff.

"That boy needs to rest," admonished the querulous voice of the doctor's mother. The doctor's voice continued in agreement, but to no avail.

"That bank robber can rest in a jail cell just as well as here," huffed the sheriff. "Let's get him up."

Muffled grunts and groans could be heard. It was a few minutes before the two lawmen returned outside with a tall blond man between them. The doctor and his mother followed the men out onto the porch.

"Kid," whispered Heyes.

The outlaw leader straightened up. Brown eyes stared intently. How was his cousin? Would Kid be able to ride a horse? Or need to lay down in a wagon? The way the gang left Simpsonville would determine where they could go next. A twenty dollar gold piece would normally buy a lot of silence in Wildwood, but maybe not so much if there was a posse chasing after them. A thousand considerations ran through Heyes calculating mind. But one thought remained foremost.

"Please, please be alright Kid," prayed Heyes.

The younger Kansan's hands were tied in front of him. Kid's head lolled to one side. Heyes recognized Kid's low heeled brown boots, but the loose black pants and the floppy white shirt he wore were definitely not Kid's size. The two lawmen grasped Kid by either arm and manhandled the young blond down the steps. Bleary blue eyes blinked in the bright midday sun. When Kid's footstep touched the road, he staggered to the right. Kid's weight fell heavily upon the deputy's foot as the younger Kansan jostled the man. The young lawman yelped and fell backwards clutching his foot. Heyes knew an opportunity when he saw one.

"Sheriff!" called Heyes loudly.

Hoping the boys heard his signal, the outlaw leader stepped away from the black gelding. Smiling broadly, Heyes strode towards the sheriff with his empty right hand extended as if to shake the sheriff's hand. The sheriff understandably looked confused.

"Young man," began the sheriff, "what do you think you're doing? I'm escorting a dangerous…"

Dangerous? Kid looked more sleepy than dangerous.

"Sheriff," interrupted Heyes loudly, "may I congratulate you on apprehending this…"

The outlaw leader was now within mere steps of the sheriff and his prisoner. Heyes watched warily. There was no sign that the sheriff associated the clean shaven slender man before him with the bristly rounded figure of Norton P. Terwilliger from Friday's visit. But Kid gaped at Heyes, his jaw dropped open. Blue eyes blinked, first in confusion and then again focusing clearly on Heyes. On the ground behind Kid, the deputy scrambled, trying to get to his feet.

"Heyes," asked Kid, the blond's head rolled to the other side and the blue eyes looked puzzled, "what do you think you're doing here? You're supposed to be gone."

"You're the bank robber!" growled the sheriff in sudden realization.

Several things happened quickly then. According to plan, a huge explosion sounded as the rear wall of the jail blew off. Pedestrians in the street and on boardwalks ducked, then ran inside buildings. In front of Heyes, Kid staggered again, to the left this time, knocking the sheriff flat on his rear. A second, unexpected smaller explosion blasted through the town. In the distance, Heyes could see first Kyle, then another figure, climb into the wagon. Kid stepped forward, off balance, almost falling into Heyes open arms.

"Whoa there Kid, I've got you," whispered Heyes, "hold on now."

The dark haired Kansan grabbed at his cousin's shoulders to steady him, but Kid was twisting and turning around all in one motion. The Smith & Wesson Model 3 fired before Heyes even realized that Kid had grabbed his revolver. The deputy's holster and pistol skittered across the dusty road, landing in the shadows beneath the doc's front porch.

"Ain't nobody that fast," breathed the deputy as he raised his hands.

Heyes felt his cousin's body tremble. And Heyes himself was trembling at the realization of what had almost happened. How had Kid known the deputy was going for his gun? Kid staggered a step away from Heyes. The blond pointed the gun towards to sheriff.

"Why don't you toss that gun underneath the porch with the other one?" suggested Kid.

The tall blond rocked unsteadily back on his heels. The lawman carefully plucked his weapon from his holster and threw it into the shadows.

"I'd be real careful about where you're pointing that gun," said the sheriff slowly.

Now Kid looked confused again. The blond looked from the sheriff to the weapon in his hand almost as if he didn't realize he was holding it.

"Where's my colt?" asked the Kid.

The sheriff pointed towards a rising plume of smoke in the direction of what had once been a jailhouse. Heyes stepped forward, close to Kid. The dark haired man slowly reached around Kid and placed one hand over Kid's bound wrists. Applying a gentle pressure Heyes lowered the pointing weapon.

"Why don't I just take this?" suggested Heyes in a reasonable tone of voice as his other hand circled round and retrieved his gun from Kid's hand. "We need to get going."

Kid blinked his befuddled eyes and tilted his head sideways. The blond looked directly at the dark haired outlaw leader.

"Heyes," grumbled Kid, "that's what I've been tellin' ya all along."

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

The sound of the chuck wagon rattled behind Heyes. Kyle pulled the wagon up behind him, blocking the men from the rest of the town. Dark brown eyes noted the figure seated next to Kyle was Jenkins. Wheat, Preacher and Lobo, leading the blue roan mare, appeared out of shadowed alleyways. Wheat and Preacher ominously pointed their weapons at the two lawmen, while Lobo hurried to dismount. The tall man grabbed Blackie's reins and pulled the horse closer to Curry and Heyes.

"Kid, can you ride?" asked Heyes anxiously.

"I can ride," responded the blond.

Heyes glanced at Lobo for confirmation. The tall shaggy haired man pressed his hands against Kids face. Pushing Kid's eyelids back, Lobo looked into the bleary blue eyes. For a moment, Heyes was sure that Lobo didn't agree with the blond's answer, but then Lobo nodded.

"Too much laudanum," hissed Lobo in a low voice. "We've got to get him moving. You'll have to hold him upright in the saddle, or he will probably fall off."

Heyes glanced at the porch. The doctor and his mother were watching wide eyed.

"How much laudanum did you give him?" asked Heyes.

"Just two drops in with the willow bark tea," responded the doctor.

"Three drops," answered the elderly woman.

"Which was it?" growled Lobo. "Two? Or three? Or five?"

The doctor and his mother looked at each other. Heyes sighed, while Lobo shook his head as if he'd known all along and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _mighta kilt him with kindness_. Kid rocked back on his heels and grinned. Right now, the blond definitely wasn't feeling any pain.

"Yeah Heyes, we need to get moving," urged Kid. "Before somebody starts shooting."

"Right Kid," agreed Heyes.

Lobo helped Kid mount the big black gelding, then Heyes climbed up behind. Heyes circled the horse, assessing the situation. Figures were peeking from windows further down the street. Men were starting to gather at the saloon door. Heyes glanced back at Jenkins. His lips pressed in a tight frown, now was not the time. Heyes turned the big black horse to face the mountains. Now was time to ride.

"Wheat," called Heyes.

The burly outlaw nodded. Wheat loosened the carpet bag from the pommel in front of him and threw it on the ground in front of the sheriff.

"That's the money from the bank robbery," explained Wheat. "You might want to take your time counting it, make sure it's all there, before you start chasing after us."

The sheriff glowered.

"Or iffen you'd rather count my dynamite," added Kyle with a disarming grin, "I got lots more."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The outlaws stopped at the watering hole again. Early afternoon sunlight filtered through the tree branches. Lobo helped Heyes get Kid down from the horse and into the shade. He then checked the woozy outlaw's bandages. The shaggy haired man smiled in satisfaction at the tight white wrapping around Kid's chest.

"Drink some water," ordered Lobo.

The closest thing to a doctor in Devil's Hole held out his canteen to Kid. The blond gunslinger took a deep swig and then sat down abruptly on a nearby boulder. Preacher came up beside them holding Kid's red shirt. The older man coaxed Kid to extend one arm and then another as he began dressing the dazed gunslinger.

"Can he make it to Devil's Hole?" demanded Heyes.

"We don't have time for me to undo the bandaging and check the stitches, but there's no blood, so that's good," answered Lobo. "Kid will be more alert when the laudanum wears off but he's still too woozy to ride by himself."

More alert? Heyes remembered his cousin's fast draw back in Simpsonville. Heyes hadn't even realized the deputy was going for his gun before Kid had already taken care of the threat.

"And with two of you on one horse," added Preacher, "you will have to go slow."

If they continued by horse, Heyes had planned on going slow. The slender dark haired man had noticed how Kid hissed in pain on occasion when the galloping gelding jolted them. Heyes was still debating whether to take Kid by wagon to Wildwood when Kyle pulled the wagon to a halt beneath the cottonwoods. The slower moving vehicle would have been the last to arrive, except for Wheat. The burly outlaw trailed his little buddy keeping an eye out for a posse.

"Anyone following?" asked Heyes anxiously.

"Not yet," answered Wheat laconically.

Kyle, followed by Jenkins, climbed out of the rickety chuck wagon. Heyes glared at the man who had deserted the gang at the first sign of trouble. Jenkins had not only proven himself a coward, but he'd gone on to steal Heyes' favorite horse. The gang wouldn't have had enough horses to get away if Kid hadn't been… if Kid hadn't been…

"I wasn't expecting to see you again Jenkins," snapped Heyes. "Kid got shot after you ran out on us."

The reprobate stopped by the wagon wheel. Jenkins looked around the assembled outlaws. Frowning faces stared back at him. The runaway outlaw gulped.

"Kid was shot before I ran out too," responded Jenkins. He took a shaky breath. "Wasn't meaning any harm Heyes, just didn't think we all needed to get caught."

"You ran out on us!" started Heyes again angrily.

"Give it a rest Heyes," called Kid's sleepy voice. "One man more or less wouldn't have changed what happened. It wouldn't have made a difference."

Heyes turned to stare at Kid. Would one man more have made a difference in Simpsonville last week? One man less certainly made a difference to Heyes.

"Guess it depends upon the man," responded Heyes. The slender man turned back to face Jenkins. Dark brown eyes narrowed. "You ran out on us. Kyle broke you out of jail, but you're no longer part of the gang. Get! And don't ever come back!"

Jenkins looked around uncertainly, but he didn't see a friendly face anywhere.

"Do I get a horse?" asked Jenkins.

The incredulous frown on Heyes' face answered his question. Jenkins took a step away from the encircled outlaws. Kyle pointed to the stream trickling southward.

"Nevada's that way," encouraged the little outlaw. "I heared the silver mines are hiring."

"You might want to hurry," added Wheat with a menacing scowl. "Posse will catch a man on foot real easy."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Look at you," said Heyes in his best wheedling tone, "you can't even stand up straight."

"Don't need to stand," objected Kid. "Gonna sit."

The blond fumbled the last button on his red shirt and then stood up. Kid swayed, but the blue eyes were clearer than they had been earlier. Behind him, Preacher and Lobo stood ready to catch him if needed.

"Ain't laying down in no wagon," continued Kid. "Besides, you'll break Kyle's heart if you don't let him use some more of his dynamite."

"What?" asked Heyes.

The little outlaw stood between Curry and Wheat. Kyle grinned up at Heyes.

"You promised I could blow up the wagon if we didn't need it to haul Kid," reminded Kyle.

"Wasn't blowing up a jailhouse enough for one day?" asked Heyes in exasperation. The outlaw leader remembered the blasts in Simpsonville earlier. "And what was that second explosion?"

Kyle's blue eyes blinked.

"Oooh, almost forgot," Kyle breathed. The little man hurried back to the wagon and withdrew something from under the seat. Kyle quickly returned and thrust the bundle towards Kid. "Sheriff had your gun in his safe. Thought you might miss it."

Kid smiled. He unwound the belt and wrapped it around the too big black pants. Kid pulled out the Colt House Revolver and checked the five chambers before settling the gun back into its holster.

"Thanks Kyle, I feel better already, finally dressed," responded Kid. Blue eyes glanced at Heyes. "And I'll feel even better when we get moving. Posse will be coming soon."

Heyes knew there was no use fighting the Curry stubbornness. He soon had the blue roan saddled. Lobo and Preacher helped him get Kid astride the horse. When Heyes mounted, Lobo passed him the reins to Blackie. Preacher and Lobo quickly mounted. It wasn't until Wheat passed Lobo the reins to his horse, that Heyes realized something was up. The four horses were unhitched from the chuck wagon, two of them sported Wheat and Kyle's saddles, but neither man was mounted.

"I'm gonna stay with Kyle," explained Wheat. "He's not quite ready with the dynamite."

Heyes glanced at the smaller man. Kyle was puttering with fuses and adjusting the placement of the dynamite sticks. The Kansan didn't want to leave, especially after chastising Jenkins for running out on them. In the distance, Heyes could see a dust cloud. It might not be anything, or it might be a posse.

"How much longer Kyle?" asked Heyes. "We can wait for you."

The little outlaw looked up at Heyes in surprise. Kyle shook his head.

"Go on now. We'll be along in a bit," replied Kyle with a shooing motion. Blue eyes gleamed. "I wants to watch."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes, riding double with Curry, followed by Preacher and Lobo were up to the first split in the mountain trail when they heard the explosion. As distractions go, Heyes thought the noise would get the posse's attention.

"That will be the wagon," said Preacher in his low voice. "Posse must be real slow if they only just now got to the watering hole."

The second explosion echoing through the deep blue afternoon sky a few minutes later surprised Heyes. Wheat and Kyle should have been on the riverbank trail now headed far away from the wagon.

"What's Kyle doing?" asked Heyes.

"Uh, Kyle and Wheat," began Preacher, "they had some plans for another distraction."

"Kyle said it was a shame to let the opportunity to use the dynamite go to waste," added Lobo. "I reckon that was the dead cottonwood."

"Yeah," agreed Preacher. "Kyle said the bigtooth maple was too purty to blow up."

Preacher and Lobo reined in their horses and continued talking. Heyes slowed Blue Belle. He turned the horse a bit so he could look back at the two men.

"Come on," urged Heyes.

"We always split up when we're trying to get away from a posse," reminded Preacher. "We just ain't decided which way we're going yet."

"You can't ride hard with Kid," reminded Lobo.

Heyes knew that was true. The laudanum was wearing off. Kid's jaw was clenched tight and the injured man was breathing shallowly. The blond leaned back against Heyes.

"I can ride just as hard as anyone," insisted Kid.

Heyes didn't need to see Lobo shaking his head to know that wasn't a good idea.

"We promised Wheat and Kyle we'd provide a distraction too," added Preacher. He pointed towards the easier of the two trails leading to Devil's Hole. "Why don't you and Kid go that way?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sound of gunfire echoed through the late afternoon as Heyes turned Blue Belle into a narrow canyon. Heyes recognized the sound of Preacher's Springfield rifle followed quickly by Lobo's Henry repeating rifle. The two men were buying Curry and Heyes time to get further into the depths of outlaw country. Further away from a posse.

"You reckon we should turn back?" asked Kid. "Go help them?"

"No," answered Heyes. The gang was doing everything they could to help, Heyes knew he had to get Kid into the high country before nightfall. "They're just making noise to scare the posse, a deterrent. They'll be along in a little while."

The dark haired man urged Blue Belle forward. The little mare was his favorite because of her stamina. Even carrying both Heyes and Curry, the blue roan continued the rocky ascent without faltering. It was several minutes more before Kid spoke again.

"Heyes," asked Kid, "did you really have Wheat give back the bank money?"

A bright smile lit up Heyes face. Kid asking questions was a good sign in the Kansan's opinion. Heyes remembered Wheat's description of Kid talking fine. Talking was good.

"Well yeah," answered Heyes with a dimpled smirk, "if you had a choice between your money or outlaws, which would you choose?"

"Not me doing the choosing," replied Kid. "And considering the folks of Simpsonville got the money, and are following us, I guess they chose both."

"Some folks are greedy like that," agreed Heyes, "but giving them the money gave us a good head start on getting out of town."

"I have to say Heyes," sighed Kid as he leaned back against his cousin's shoulder, "I don't think that was one of your better plans."

Hmmph, thought Heyes. That remained to be seen. If they all got back to Devil's Hole alive, Heyes would count it as his best plan ever.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wheat and Kyle were waiting in the lengthening shadows of three lodgepole pines just past the big boulder marking the last split in the trail. Riding faster, they had arrived at the base of the trail to Devil's Hole before Heyes and Kid.

"Preacher and Lobo?" asked Heyes.

"They should be along soon," answered Wheat. "They took the ridge trail."

"Need some help switching horses?" asked Kyle.

Wheat eased Kid down off of Blue Belle while Kyle whispered to the animal keeping her still. Heyes caught his cousin and steadied him for a moment, before Kid found his footing. Heyes pretended not to hear as Kid hissed in pain when he mounted the big black gelding for the last leg of the journey.

"Not much farther Kid," promised Heyes.

Preacher and Lobo caught up with the rest of the gang by the waterfall. The moonlit trail was nearly vertical in some places as they rode single file up the last leg of the journey. When they finally reached the hideout, Heyes pulled Blackie up as close to the porch on the leader's cabin as he could. Sliding off the big gelding, Heyes found Lobo at his side. Together the two men got Kid into the leader's cabin while Wheat, Kyle and Preacher tended to the horses.

"Lay down Kid," urged Heyes. "Let Lobo check you out."

"Don't need checking out," grumbled Kid, "just need to sleep."

Heyes glanced at Lobo, but the man merely frowned and continued to unbutton Kid's red shirt. Kid hissed as Lobo prodded his back. Lobo cut away the bandages and smiled.

"The stitches held," nodded Lobo happily.

Heyes gaped. A line of tiny, neat stitches ran down the left side of Kid's back just under the shoulder blade. But what surprised Heyes was the bruising. Kid's left side was mottled blue and green from shoulder blade to waist. Lobo had already removed the bandage on Kid's arm before Heyes found his voice.

"What?" Heyes pointed.

"The stitching held," responded Lobo softly. "Bruising and the cracked rib will heal with time. Just be glad the rib stopped the bullet from going any further."

Oh. Heyes understood. He knew what ribs were meant to protect. The dark haired Kansan watched as blue eyes blinked again. Kid yawned. Blue eyes closed and the soft even sound of breathing told Heyes that his cousin was asleep.

"Kid's right," continued Lobo, "he needs to sleep. Do you want me to help him get his boots off?"

Lobo's battered face looked tired. Heyes suddenly realized that they had been up for nearly twenty-four hours straight. Kid wasn't the only one who needed some sleep.

"No, I've got it," replied Heyes. "Thanks Lobo. You go on and get some sleep yourself."

Heyes carefully eased off first one boot and then the other. When he tried to remove Kid's gun belt, the blond stirred. A quick hand grasped Heyes wrist.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Kid.

"Just hanging up your holster," soothed Heyes. "It will be right here beside you."

"Good," replied Kid.

Blue eyes blinked again and then closed. Heyes looked at his cousin. With his blond hair and blue eyes, Jedidiah Curry was almost the spitting image of his older brother Henry at eighteen. The only difference was Kid had the Curry curls, while Henry had straight blond hair like his mother. Heyes pulled a red wool blanket up over the sleeping form of his cousin and then stood up. Brown eyes glanced towards the other room where his own bed beckoned. Heyes grabbed the gray blanket off his bed and returned to the front room. He settled himself in the chair next to the small round table where he could watch his cousin and keep an eye on the door too. The outlaw leader didn't expect any disturbances tonight, but just in case, Heyes would be there.

"Sleep well Kid," whispered Heyes. "When you wake up, we're gonna have to talk about some things…"

Heyes yawned tiredly. Slender fingers pulled the blanket close around his shoulders.

"Like that other time you were shot," continued Heyes with another yawn, "and today, how did you know the deputy was getting ready to pull his gun? But most of all, we're gonna talk about cancelling those contingency plans of yours. I just don't think my poor heart could take another Plan B."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	4. Plan D

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate.

Plan D

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes was awakened by gentle tapping on the front door of the cabin. The slender man lifted his head up from the table. Dark brown eyes glanced towards Kid's bunk. The tall blond slowly rolled to one side and opened first one blue eye and then another.

"Heyes, Kid, do youse want breakfast?" called Kyle.

While Kyle had no compunction about opening the cabin door on a sleeping Heyes, none of the boys willingly barged in on a sleeping Kid. When Heyes had first returned to Devil's Hole with the Kid last year, that first night they had both stayed in the big bunkhouse down the hill with the rest of the boys. By the second night, Heyes had the leader's cabin to himself while a disgruntled Harvey Loomis was on his way to Montana or Idaho or someplace. Kid stayed in the group bunkhouse, but a stumbling man returning from a midnight trip to the outhouse awakened the young gunslinger. Heyes hadn't seen the fast draw, but everyone slept better after Kid moved into the front room of the leader's cabin that same night.

"Yeah, thanks Kyle," responded Heyes as he sat upright and blinked sleepily. He rolled his shoulders and tilted his neck first to the left and then to the right, getting the cricks out. "We'll be down in just a bit."

"Go on without me," grunted Kid, "I'm not hungry just yet."

Brown eyes snapped wide open. His cousin had been too thin when they met in Texas. While nothing specific was said, Heyes had the impression that meals weren't a regular thing for Kid back then. In Devil's Hole, the gang didn't eat fancy, but they did eat regular. Heyes was glad that the teenager had finally started filling out. The dark haired Kansan stared as Kid sat up and put his feet on the floor. One long arm reached for his red button down shirt draped over the corner post of the bunk, then reached again for his gun belt. Kid rose to stand buckling the belt over the loose black pants.

"You're not hungry?" questioned Heyes. "Where are you going?"

Blue eyes looked at the older Kansan in disbelief. Kid snorted.

"After all the water Lobo was pushing me to drink yesterday," replied Kid, "do you really have to ask?"

"No, I guess not," agreed Heyes. A brief smile of relief flashed across his face. The canteen Lobo had thrust at his cousin at the watering hole had only been the first of many throughout yesterday's long ride. The brown eyes narrowed before Heyes continued softly, "Do you need the gun to go to the outhouse?"

"No, I ain't going out without my gun," replied Kid. His face reddened. The young blond held up a broken bit of twine that Heyes recognized as having been wrapped around Kid's waist yesterday. "I need the gun belt to hold these huge britches up. Then, I need to get to the washroom and find my gray pants. Then, and only then, I'll think about breakfast."

Oh. Dimples deepened as a broad smile spread across Heyes' face. Kid's modesty might pose a problem. Heyes had been surprised last year when they left San Antonio at how quickly the teenager had been able to pack up and go. Kid only owned the shiny colt revolver and gun belt, an aging sorrel, a worn saddle with equally worn saddlebags, the clothes he wore, and another set rolled up in his bedroll. Over the past year, Heyes had continually urged his younger cousin to get more clothes, warmer clothes especially, for the Wyoming environment, but Kid was saving for a new pistol. Somewhere the blond had read that Colt manufacturing company had a new model revolver in test trials. If the sorrel hadn't finally died of old age, Heyes doubted that Kid would have bought the big black gelding. Clothes remained last on Kid's priority list until the first snow. Then Kid broke down and bought two pairs of red woolen longjohns.

"Kid, Preacher has your gray pants rolled up in your bedroll, wherever that is," replied Heyes. "But I think we should get you some more clothes on our next visit to Wildwood."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Breakfast, which had been more of a midday meal, was now long over. Wheat pulled out a deck of cards while Kyle cleared the table. Kid declined to play. Heyes watched in concern as the gunslinger returned to the leader's cabin for an afternoon nap. Kid had a strong constitution. The dark haired man hadn't seen his cousin injured or ill since he was a boy.

"A body does its best healing while sleeping," reminded Lobo.

"How long?" asked Heyes.

"Kid needs to take it easy for at least a couple of weeks," answered Lobo. "Maybe longer. Watch the way he moves, you'll know."

Not for the first time, Heyes wondered, where had Lobo learned so much about healing? While all the gang kept a close watch on the Devil's Hole supply of whiskey and coffee, the shaggy haired man was always the one to remind Heyes of the need to keep up a stock of willow bark, quinine and soap. Most of the money they stole went for supplies. Lobo's constant reminder that hygiene was important was part of why the gang had a separate washhouse building. Earlier that year, Heyes had overseen the installation of a hand pump bringing water directly to the washroom.

"A hot bath wouldn't hurt either," continued Lobo. "Relaxes the muscles."

"Getting all wet…," objected Kyle with a shiver. "Baths will make you sick."

The gang started discussing the relative merits of bathing. Surprisingly, or maybe not, not everyone agreed with Lobo. The outlaw leader settled back in his chair and glanced around the table at the familiar faces. Wheat and Kyle were partners, had been since before Heyes had first met them. Something Kyle had once said left Heyes thinking that the small man had been a gunner in the Civil War. It would certainly explain Kyle's fascination with explosives. Preacher was a mystery. And while the man partnered up with Lobo often enough like yesterday, Preacher and Lobo were just as apt to go off by themselves. It wasn't long before the Wheat started dealing the cards and the whiskey came out.

"Heyes," asked Wheat, as he tapped the deck of cards on the table, "are you playin'?"

"Yeah," nodded the dark haired Kansan in reply. Heyes decided he'd let Kid rest, he could wait until the injured man was feeling better before talking to him about changing plans. But plans still needed to be made. The gang needed one more lucrative job before winter. "What supplies do we need to get on our next trip to Wildwood?"

"We's gonna need to get more dynamite," responded Kyle quickly.

Heyes rolled his dark brown eyes. Yeah, he coulda guessed that.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Kid spent the next week doing nothing more strenuous than eating, sleeping and taking long hot soak baths. Heyes was beginning to think he would have to barge in on his cousin in the washroom in order to talk to him, but on the eighth morning, Heyes awoke at dawn to the distant sound of gunfire. The dark haired outlaw leader recognized the echo of the forty-one caliber Colt House Revolver. Kid had climbed up the steep back ridge behind the cabin for an early morning shooting practice.

"Sounds like things are starting to get back to normal," said Heyes. A dimpled grin spread across his face before he rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next time Heyes woke up was when he heard Kid's stride cross the porch. Kid walked quietly, but Heyes was a light sleeper. Through his open bedroom door, the master planner watched the blond step into the cabin. Kid carried a basket.

"Eggs?" asked Heyes as he set up in his bed. The sleeves of his white henley slipped down past his wrists as Heyes reached his arms high overhead and stretched.

Kid looked up with a grin.

"Yeah," replied the blond as he moved towards the cast iron stove. "Everyone else is still asleep, but I'm hungry, so I checked the chicken coop. Do you want some breakfast?"

"Sounds good," replied the outlaw leader as he reached for his clothes. "I'll put some coffee on."

A grimace crossed Kid's face as he started cracking eggs into a bowl.

"Heyes," objected Kid, "that stuff you make isn't coffee."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The two Kansans compromised. Heyes made the dark concoction he called coffee and brought another pot of water to boil so Kid could dilute the strong brew. Over a quiet meal of scrambled eggs and biscuits, the two partners began talking.

"How are you feeling?" asked Heyes.

"Better," answered Kid, "but the wounds itch something fierce."

Heyes laughed as Kid rolled up his shirt sleeve past his elbow. The wound on Kid's arm was still marked by a narrow rosy red line, but the redness would fade with time.

"It's healing," chuckled Heyes. The twenty-two year old hesitated a moment before asking about the more serious wound. "What about your back?"

Kid grunted, then stood up and slipped off his red shirt. The blond turned away from Heyes. The dark haired Kansan caught his breath. The bruising on the younger man's back was definitely fading, but it was still a mottled yellow and pale green.

"You tell me," replied Kid. "I can't see it."

"The stitching on your back looks good, like on your arm, but there's a lot of bruising," commented Heyes. "Your back looks painful."

Kid quickly shrugged his shirt back on. The blond reached for the blue enamel coffee pot without any indication that he'd even heard his cousin. Dark brown eyebrows raised up. Heyes hadn't heard Kid to admit to being in pain since they had gone to Valparaiso. The younger man returned to the table with the coffee pot and began to refill their cups.

"Are you going to tell me about how you got the scar on your upper right thigh?" asked Heyes softly.

"Nothing to tell Heyes," responded Kid in a low voice as he sat down. Blond curls shook. "Its old history, dead and buried, you don't need to know everything…"

Heyes felt an unreasonable irritation at the negative response, but the slender man wasn't angry with Kid, he was angry with himself. Or at least Heyes told himself that he was angry, it couldn't be something else, now could it?

"I do need to know," interrupted Heyes. "I need to know if someone is gunning for you… or if some lawman is going to come looking..."

"Jake Gallant ain't coming after anyone," interrupted Kid with an angry glare.

Heyes blinked in recognition. Jake Gallant was the name of one of the two men Kid was reputed to have killed in Texas. From all reports, the man had been a mean, vicious rogue and didn't live up to his name.

"Gallant shot you?" asked Heyes. "I thought you said you hadn't killed…"

Heyes' voice trailed off as the blue eyed glare deepened. Kid huffed out a great sigh before answering.

"I told you I ain't killed nobody," replied the blond. "Gallant was alive when I left him and shoulda stayed that way."

"Then what happened?"

"The law in San Angelo knows it wasn't me that killed him," sighed Kid as he leaned back in the chair, "but we all agreed it was better for me to get the blame than…"

Kid's mouth snapped shut.

"Than who?" coaxed the silver tongue. Heyes held his breath, waiting expectantly.

"Ain't polite to speak against a lady," mumbled Kid as he closed his eyes.

"And was this lady the person who bandaged you up?" asked Heyes.

"Nah," replied Kid as he slouched down in the chair. The blond raised his right leg and propped the booted foot up on the nearby kindling box as he rubbed his upper right thigh. "Artie patched me up."

Artie? Heyes had to think a minute before he remembered the affable old man who had joined their campsite the first night after leaving San Antonio.

"Do you mean Artie Gorman?" asked Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"_Jedidiah Curry," greeted the thin upright old man as he rode into their camp. "As I live and breathe! I haven't seen you in nearly a year."_

_The older man climbed out of his saddle and Kid introduced his partner. A surprisingly strong grasp pumped Heyes hand as Kid continued speaking._

"_Heyes," explained Kid, "this is Artie Gorman. He took me in, helped me out, when I first came down to Texas."_

"_Helped him," boasted the white haired man, "if it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have made it from sixteen to seventeen!"_

_Heyes's eyebrow went up at the old man's comment. A quick glance at Kid let Heyes know his cousin was still lying about his age, telling everyone he was older. As Kid seemed happy to see the old man, Heyes opened his saddle bag and brought out a bottle of good Irish whiskey. By the end of the night, the bottle was empty. The old man's memory was muddled, and as Gorman fell asleep, the old man was now boasting how he had helped both of them out time and again. _

"_The stuff Uncle Arthur taught us about pistols was a good start," explained Kid as he tucked a blanket around the dozing old man, "but Artie knows some stuff that Uncle Arthur never had a chance to tell us."_

_While Uncle Owen had taught both boys how to use a rifle, it wasn't until after the red haired man had been murdered that Heyes' father decided to teach both boys how to load a pistol. Heyes remembered his father standing with a book open in front of him. The dark haired school teacher's soft Dublin accents recited the directions on how to load and unload the weapons._

"_But the really important stuff I learned on my own," added Kid._

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Yeah, I owe Artie," answered Kid. "He's a good friend."

"I guess we both owe Artie," replied Heyes softly.

The outlaw leader shook his head thoughtfully. How had Artie been involved with Gallant's shooting and who was the mystery lady? Heyes wondered what else had happened to his cousin in Texas. How had a fifteen year old boy left Valparaiso and wound up in Texas two years later with a pistol and a fast draw the likes of which few had ever seen? Thinking of Kid's fast draw reminded Heyes of the blond's most recent demonstration of prowess.

"Kid," continued Heyes, "that day in Simpsonville, when me and the boys came to get you back, how did you know the deputy was getting ready to pull his gun?"

"What?" asked Curry.

Blue eyes opened in confusion. For a moment, Heyes was sure his cousin didn't even remember what he'd done that day.

"You grabbed my gun and shot the deputy's holster right off his hip, before I even realized he was going for his gun," reminded Heyes. "Then you aimed at the sheriff, kept him from doing anything."

Kid's blue eyes narrowed, and between the dark lashes, the color seemed to go cold and gray, gray as gunmetal. Usually Kid's blue eyes were a warm glowing blue. Kid laughed easily. And when the younger Kansan smiled, the smile lit up his eyes.

"Heyes, I'm always looking for the dangers in a place," reminded Kid slowly.

Heyes noted that although Kid's arm was stretched across the small round table, and the rest of Kid's body remained still, slouched in the wooden chair, the muscles in Kid's outstretched hand clenched and unclenched as the teenager spoke.

"And people, well especially people with guns, they make for a dangerous combination," continued Kid. "I see guns and I know when people plan on using them."

The dark haired man stared at his younger cousin. The blue eyes blinked and closed again. Heyes didn't know what to say. Those eyes hadn't always looked for danger, remembered Heyes. Suddenly, the dark haired mastermind found himself gazing directly into those blue eyes. Kid shifted in his seat. The blond leaned forward, staring quizzically at Heyes.

"Heyes, what's with all the questions?" asked Kid. "I know you. You're working up to something, probably something I'm not going to like. What is it you really want to talk about?"

Heyes gaped for the briefest of moments, before recovering. The slender man rose from his chair and began to pace around the cabin.

"The plans," replied Heyes flatly.

"What about the plans?" asked Kid sounding puzzled.

Heyes turned to face his cousin. Long slender fingers pressed upon his hips.

"I'm supposed to be in charge of all the planning," reminded Heyes. "And when you got hurt, everybody started making plans."

"What are you talking about Heyes?"

"Wheat and Kyle making distraction plans," responded the dark haired outlaw leader, "and Preacher and Lobo making cover plans…"

"Sounds like those were good plans, needful," began Kid.

"No, no, no," objected Heyes. "None of those plans would have been needed if it hadn't been for your contingency plans."

Kid's jaw clamped tight with the effort of not saying something rash.

"Plan B has to go," declared Heyes.

"Why?" demanded Curry. "Seems to me it was a good plan. It worked alright."

How could Kid say that thought Heyes. The last couple of weeks had been anything but alright.

"No Kid," responded Heyes talking quickly. "We've got to tighten things down now, there's just been too many people making plans. I'm the leader of the Devil's Hole gang and I'm supposed to be in charge."

Kid tilted his head and looked at Heyes.

"You're not in charge of everything Heyes," reminded Kid softly. "We're supposed to be partners."

"I'm the only one that makes plans from now on," announced Heyes. "I'll do the thinking and planning, you just stick to security. No more contingency plans."

Blue eyes flashed and Heyes knew he'd said it all wrong. All Heyes wanted was to ensure his cousin's safety, but from the scowl on Kid's face the slender dark haired man knew his cousin didn't see it the same way.

"I'm not stupid you know," growled Kid. The blond's face reddened. "I can think for myself."

Brown eyes blinked in shock. Heyes wasn't expecting that response.

"I never said you were stupid," replied Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

_That word, stupid, struck a memory with the dark haired Kansan. For three years, in the one room school house presided over by Arthur Heyes, Jedidiah Curry learned his lessons. While Heyes' younger cousin, like many small boys, preferred to play rather than study, no one had ever called Kid stupid. Their second week in Valparaiso, Heyes was sent by his new teacher to the smaller boys' classroom on an errand. _

"_Come in," snapped Mr. Peterson at Heyes' knock on the classroom door. "What do you want?"_

"_Mr. Hyatt sent me to ask you for some chalk sir," replied Heyes looking around._

_Nearly two dozen little boys were jammed into a tiny classroom that would have been crowded with just twelve children. Heyes was shocked to see his cousin standing in the corner with a white conical cap labelled Dunce. _

"_What's Jed doing in the corner?" blurted out Heyes._

_Mr. Peterson glared at the slender dark haired youth._

"_Curry acts like he doesn't remember anything from the fourth year primer," sniffed the disagreeable man. "If he wants to begin fifth year like a dunce, he will dress the part."_

_Heyes wanted to say of course his cousin didn't remember the fourth year primer, Jed had never seen it, but the two boys had already determined not to let anyone know they were related. From the corner, Jed glared at him and shook his head. Mr. Peterson held out the chalk box. Heyes swallowed down the outrage he felt and tried to remain calm. _

"_What's it to you anyway?" asked Mr. Peterson._

"_Nothing. We're from the same town," dissembled Heyes. "Just surprised is all, I always thought he was pretty smart."_

_Later that evening, in the dining hall, Heyes heard one of the older boys try to order his cousin around._

"_Hey stupid," called a jeering voice. _

_A cannonball of blond curls blasted into the older boy knocking him flat on his back. Heyes joined in the ensuing melee. When the administrators settled everyone down, Curry and Heyes were confined separately in isolation rooms. Over the next few years, they missed a lot of school in those isolation rooms. The war robbed the boys of their families. Valparaiso robbed them too._

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Then why are you cancelling my plans?" demanded Kid.

Blue eyes narrowed as Kid gazed back at Heyes. The dark haired Kansan sighed. The blond could always tell when Heyes was trying something. The time for truth had come.

"I can't," whispered Heyes trying not to show how desperate he felt, "I can't deal with Plan B ever again. You're all the family I've got left. You can't be getting shot."

There was a momentary silence in the cabin, then Kid sighed.

"Heyes, I can't promise not to get shot," said Curry. Kid stood up abruptly and stalked to the cabin door. "Especially not when the _Devil's Hole leader_ doesn't listen when I say it's time to leave."

Kid's words echoed through the cabin as the door swung slowly closed. Heyes gaped. The dark haired Kansan tried to remember how many times had Kid repeated _"We need to get going." _that night in Simpsonville.

"Kid," called Heyes as he hurried after his partner. "Kid, wait up, we're not done talking."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes finally found Kid skipping stones at the pond. Early morning sunlight reflected off the ripples as stone after stone raced across the blue water. Heyes approached slowly, and when he reached the water's edge, the slender dark haired man stood beside his partner silently until Kid threw the last rock in his hand.

"I'm sorry," said Heyes quietly. "I should have listened to you. It's all my fault that you got hurt…"

"Heyes, not everything is your fault," interrupted the tall blond, "I don't blame you because I got shot. I was just mad about you cancelling my plans, like Plan B wasn't good enough."

"Well it is my fault," objected Heyes. "I got you into this business, but I don't want you getting hurt or…"

The dark haired man sighed. Heyes couldn't say the word. Had he really thought being an outlaw was better than staying in Texas? Heyes squatted down. The Kansan began idly turning over the small rocks with his fingertips.

"Life expectancy in this business don't count for much," said Kid softly as he knelt beside his cousin and started picking up smooth flat stones, "but then I guess we're both living on borrowed time."

"What?" asked Heyes.

"Everyone in our family is dead," reminded Kid. "I've already lived longer than my brother and both my sisters."

Heyes gazed at his eighteen year old cousin. The dark haired man wondered if his own brown eyes showed the same pain he saw in the blue eyes facing him. Kid's older brother Henry had been the same age when the young cavalryman was declared missing.

"Aunt Katie and her family…" began Heyes hesitantly.

A wistful expression crossed Kid's face as he slowly stood up and started skipping stones again. Heyes voice stopped. They hadn't talked about their family in years. He remembered his mother anxiously checking the post office every time she went to town in the last weeks before her own death. No one had heard from Aunt Katie and her family since two armies turned the seat of Adams County Pennsylvania into a bloodbath.

"That first year in Valparaiso," said Kid softly, "I kept hoping that we'd hear that Henry was alive and coming to get us. Sometimes, I'd hope that Aunt Katie was coming to get us. But after a while… I just quit hoping."

Valparaiso. Nearly everything bad that happened always seemed to come back to that place. Heyes had spent four years in the government run facility. Kid had been there six years. That horrible place probably should have had a sign above its door stating _abandon all hope. _ Heyes remembered his cousin wanted to run away so many times. Should Heyes have taken Kid with him when he was discharged?

"We never lied about our names," continued Kid. "Don't you think that if Aunt Katie was alive, we would have heard?"

"Kid, with the war, mail and telegraph service was erratic," started Heyes.

A huff of disbelief came from the Kid. Heyes watched as the blond sent the last three stones skimming across the pond in a speeding series of jumps. While Heyes couldn't even remember ever seeing Aunt Katie, he wanted to believe, wanted so very badly to believe, that somewhere a woman still lived with the same red curls, green eyes and dimpled smile found on his mother's face.

"When I got out of Valparaiso, and you weren't there, I thought…," continued Kid, a stubborn expression settled on his face, "well, let's just say, you're all the family I've got left too. Plan B stays... 'cause I ain't never letting anything happen to you."

Heyes gulped as Kid knelt down and began to pick up more stones. The dark haired outlaw tried to remember when the last time was that he had heard Kid talk so much. Kid might think Plan B had to stay, but Heyes was going to do his best to make sure Plan B was never, ever needed again.

"If I hadn't been checking out the bank manager's books…" began Heyes shaking his head.

"We both messed up the Simpsonville job. We both knew the timing was tight with the sheriff's rounds," responded Kid with a smile. "I should have made you leave sooner."

"Yeah right," grunted Heyes with a snort. "This was my fault, you couldn't make me leave…"

"I could have picked you up and carried you out of the bank," interrupted Kid.

Brown eyes blinked in surprise. An eyebrow went up as the dark haired Kansan glanced sideways at his cousin.

"You wouldn't dare," said Heyes.

"Oh yeah I would," answered Kid. His lips turned up in a grin, the blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Now are you gonna start listening to me or am I gonna have to flatten ya?"

Heyes looked past his cousin to the sparkling blue water. The temptation was too much to resist.

"You've already done that," reminded Heyes as he pushed Kid backwards. "My turn."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Two sopping wet, laughing outlaws returned to the leader's cabin some time later. Lom Trevors was sitting on the front porch. None of the other Devil's Hole gang could be seen.

"Hello Lom," greeted Heyes cautiously. Although Lom was a friend, he was also a lawman now. "Wasn't expecting to see you up here."

"If anybody asks," replied Lom, "I haven't been here."

"Well don't come in then," said Heyes with a dimpled grin.

The moustached man followed Heyes and Kid into the cabin. Kid stalked over to his bunk, sat down and began disassembling his wet colt, while Heyes walked towards the stove. Heyes lifted the coffee pot offering Lom some first. The lawman shook his head. Heyes poured himself a cup of the cold coffee before moving towards the table.

"So Lom," asked Heyes as he sat down and began pulling off his boots, "what brings you here?"

As Heyes nudged his thick heeled boots beneath the table with one foot, the heavyset lawman reached into his inside vest pocket and withdrew some folded papers. Lom slapped the wanted posters down on the table in front of Heyes.

"These," answered Lom. "I thought you ought to know about the updates after your latest escapade in Simpsonville."

Heyes looked at the topmost wanted poster bearing his name. The usual dark brown hair, brown eyes, medium build, age 21, height 5 feet 11 inches. A new item, scar on left side of throat. Heyes leaned forward resting his elbows on the table, clasping his chin between his hands, suddenly glad that he hadn't taken off the wet neckerchief covering up the scar from the shaving cut on the right side of his throat. The twenty-two year old remembered the doctor's mother warning him that the cut would scar if untended. The general description was vague at best, and the age, height and location of the scar were wrong, but Heyes wasn't going to correct any of that if he could help it.

"I see they raised the bounty again," commented Heyes with a forced smile. "Two hundred and fifty dollars is a lot of money."

Lom snorted and reached for the wanted posters. The deputy slid Heyes' poster aside, revealing a new poster bearing the name of Kid Curry. Heyes swallowed. It was the first time his younger cousin had been listed as a wanted man. Blond hair, blue eyes, medium build, age 19, height 5 feet 11 inches. Scar on right thigh. Hmmm, no mention of a scar on the left arm or below the left shoulder blade. Was the doctor's mother trying to help the law, or the outlaws? Or did she really think her stitching was that good?

"Two hundred and fifty dollars for Kid too?" asked Heyes. "Why so high for a first offense?"

Lom's eyebrows went up. He tapped the text below Kid's name. Exactly the same as the text below the name of Hannibal Heyes, leader of a band of desperados.

"Hmmph," grunted Lom, "I guess they figured if the whole gang came to get Kid back, he must be just as important as the gang leader."

Well yeah. Heyes knew that, but he would rather that the law hadn't figured it out. And he wasn't going to tell anyone that Kid was only eighteen. Just like he sure wasn't going to point out that a man who wore low heeled boots and slouched a bit when he walked might look to be the same height as a slightly shorter man that wore thick soled boots with hollowed out heels for carrying lock picks. There were just some things that the law didn't need to know.

"Be glad the wanted posters are just rewards offered by the territorial governor," admonished Lom as he turned to leave, "I would hate to have the banks or railroads start posting real reward money. That would get the bounty hunters all stirred up."

"Thanks Lom," said Heyes softly.

"Friends help each other out," reminded Lom before he stepped out the door.

The door swung shut. Heyes and Curry looked at each other.

"I suppose that means we should stay out of Porterville," observed Kid.

"Yeah," replied Heyes. He leaned forward and looked at the updated wanted posters. "Of course these updates means the folks at Simpsonville aren't being real friendly."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

After dinner that night, Heyes announced he was holding an official meeting of the Devil's Hole gang. The dark haired outlaw leader started pacing back and forth, gesturing with his hands as he spoke.

"We've got to go over the rules," started Heyes. "Our first year together has been pretty good, but we can make it better. We've just got to finesse the bylaws a bit."

Heyes stopped and turned to the men seated at the table before him. Kyle had a puzzled expression on his face, while Wheat rolled his eyes. Lobo appeared to be falling asleep. Preacher might actually have been praying. Kid leaned up against the back wall with his arms folded across his chest watching everything through half closed eyes.

"What do you mean we gots to buy a law?" asked Kyle. "Ain't we outlaws?"

Heyes started to explain, but words like codicil and addendum just seemed to make matters worse. The resulting babble only stopped when Kid pursed his lips and blew a sharp whistle. Everyone stopped talking to look at the tall blond.

"Let Heyes talk," said Kid softly. After a moments continued silence, the younger Kansan coaxed, "Go on Heyes."

The dark haired man resumed pacing in front of the gang members. Most of what Heyes planned to say tonight had already been worked out with Kid in advance.

"We're just changing the rules a bit," began Heyes.

"Changing… how?" challenged Wheat as he leaned back in his seat.

"Wheat, just listen," chided Kid. "He's trying to tell you how."

Dark brown eyes met the clear blue gaze of his partner. A slight smirk from Kid prompted Heyes to begin talking again.

"When we started last year, we said there were three rules," reminded Heyes. He held up his hand and raised his index finger as he listed the first rule.

"First, no hurting any people," said Heyes, "but I have to remind everyone that we're people too. So don't go getting hurt."

"I likes that rule," smiled Kyle.

"Sorta hard to enforce," frowned Wheat.

"We want to be the most successful outlaws in these parts," reminded Heyes. "And part of being a success means we need to be around to spend the money."

Most of the boys nodded in agreement at that statement, but Lobo seemed to slip down farther in his chair. Heyes thought the shaggy haired man might really be asleep.

"And there's been a lot of other people making plans," continued Heyes, he glanced towards his cousin, "distraction plans, cover plans and contingency plans."

"What's wrong with that," grumbled Wheat.

"Making plans shows initiative and creativity," Heyes realized that he was losing his audience again and hurried to the key point. He raised a second finger. "Rule number two, I make the plans. And if anyone else makes a plan, I have to know about it first. No more surprise plans."

Heyes looked around the room at the nodding outlaws.

"Any extra plans have to be approved by me," added Heyes in a rush.

His partner's eyebrows went up a little at Heyes last line. The slender brown haired man stopped moving and stared at his cousin. It wasn't until Kid gave a slight nod, that Heyes realized he'd been holding his breath.

"What about rule three?" asked Kyle.

"That stays the same," answered Heyes. A third slender finger joined the other two. "Kid is in charge of security. We all do what Curry says."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Six weeks later the entire gang was back at the saloon in Wildwood. Celebrating. Heyes grinned as he glanced around the noisy room. The return trip to Simpsonville had been a flawless plan. It started when Kid walked into the new jailhouse shortly after midnight. Returning those horrible big black pants, the blond locked up both sheriff and deputy, confiscating their weapons too. Not a shot was fired. Heyes and the rest of the gang were free to break into the bank.

"Here you go sugar," said a thirtyish brunette as she set a bottle of Jameson's down on the table in front of Heyes. "I'll be back in a bit with the cards."

Heyes watched the new waitress sashay back towards the bar. Betsy's dark haired friend Deanna, had hurried to Kid's side when they entered the saloon. Betsy had quit work, returned home. Deanna apparently had a lot of things to tell Kid, goodbye and thank you messages from Betsy, and maybe some sweet talk of her own. They were still talking. Kid leaned against the bar. The blond's gaze was tilted downwards, lips curled up in a soft smile as Kid listened to Deanna. The tall outlaw was dressed in a new blue shirt, tan trousers, and a sheepskin coat.

"A little warm in here for that coat," chuckled Heyes, "but it looks good on you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

_The twenty-two year old had insisted on taking Kid to the tailor's when they arrived in Wildwood earlier this afternoon. Heyes looked around the shop, while the tiny little tailor fretted about Kid with his tape measure. _

"_Thirty waist… thirty four inseam…" muttered the little man. "I've got one pair of trousers that will fit you sir, but we'll have to make the rest."_

"_And what about this Kid," asked Heyes holding up the heavy sheepskin jacket. At Kid's uncertain glance, Heyes added, "My treat, call it a birthday gift, even if it is a bit late."_

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The new barmaid appeared in front of Heyes again. She leaned forward giving him a glimpse of her décolletage as she placed the cards and poker chips in front of him. When the woman moved away again, Heyes couldn't see Kid. Wheat and Kyle were walking towards him. Wheat pulled out the chair to Heyes left and sat down. Kyle rounded the table and set down on the Kansan's right side.

"Hello boys," greeted Heyes as he craned his neck trying to see across the crowded room. "What's up?"

"Kid said to tell you we's here to inform you about Plan D," said Kyle in a rush.

Heyes stared at the small man. Another plan? Already?

"I thought we had an agreement about that," said Heyes. He reached up and pushed back his hat and smiled. "No more surprise plans."

"It ain't a surprise, we's informing you," answered Kyle. There was a pause, then the little outlaw added helpfully, "Now."

"But I haven't approved any new plans," objected the dark haired outlaw leader.

"Don't need to," answered Kyle happily. "Plan D is a security plan."

Heyes turned looking for Kid, but found himself staring at Wheat. The dark haired Kansan glanced from one outlaw to the other.

"Kid said that since rule three was in place before the addendum to rule two," recited Wheat self-importantly, "security plans take precedence and don't need to be approved."

Heyes blinked. Hmmmph! He craned his neck trying to see across the crowded room, but the oncoming figures of Lobo and Preacher blocked his view.

"What's Plan D?" asked Heyes.

"Uh, uh..," started Kyle. He scratched his head as Lobo and Preacher sat down across from Heyes. "I think… I think Plan D might be Deanna."

Beside Heyes, Wheat snorted.

"That's not it," said Wheat.

"Then what is Plan D?" asked Kyle in frustration. "I can't remember."

"Do not disturb," answered Wheat smugly.

"Are you sure?" asked Kyle doubtfully. The littlest outlaw nodded towards the stairs. "I thought…"

The pretty brunette Kid had been talking to ever since they arrived in the saloon was now backing up the stairs, leading the tall blond by the hand. Heyes saw her lips move, and even though he couldn't hear the words, he could recognize the coaxing expression on her face. Kid was grinning happily.

"It's because of Deanna," explained Wheat, "that Kid doesn't want to be disturbed."

Kyle nodded slowly, but the expression on his face remained unconvinced. Heyes leaned back in his chair, the thunk of wood hitting wall stopped him from moving back any further.

"Yeah, but do not disturb ain't plan D," said Preacher.

"Would somebody please tell me what Plan D is?" asked Heyes in exasperation.

Wheat, Kyle, Lobo and Preacher all stared at the Devil's Hole gang leader.

"Plan D is a security plan," explained Lobo. The shaggy haired man glanced at the other men sitting at the table. Everyone but Heyes nodded in agreement. Lobo continued. "When it's a matter of security, we all do what Curry says."

"What is Plan D?" hissed Heyes.

"Don't," said Preacher, as he reached for the card deck, "don't let Heyes get into any trouble."

Heyes' jaw dropped open as Preacher began shuffling the cards. Did Kid really think the entire gang was needed to watch over him?

"Yeah, that's it, like Plan B only Kid ain't shot or captured," agreed Kyle with a broad smile, "Don't let Heyes get into any trouble."

Oh no, no, no, thought Heyes. Plan D has to go.

"Deal," ordered Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x


End file.
